


MC-Lukanette's "No Context" November 2020 (Snippets)

by Miraculous_Content



Series: MC-Lukanette's "No Context" November 2020 [5]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 37,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miraculous_Content/pseuds/Miraculous_Content
Summary: Assorted written pieces from various ideas and AUs I've thought up, given with little to no context whatsoever as to their creation.Contains lots of fluff, kisses, and Lukanette.(tags for each found in their respective chapter)
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: MC-Lukanette's "No Context" November 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200050
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Advanced Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marinette is affection-starved and both she and Luka decide to be selfish about how they feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Talks About Love] [Hurt/Comfort] [Luka Knows] [Dating Without Dating] [Gray Morality] [Mutual Selfishness] [Kiss]

Sometimes, Luka hated being observant. He hadn’t always been like that, but with his mother being so chaotic and his sister being so quiet, Luka had to learn to read people and anticipate their next moves.

Marinette was easy, honestly, and that just made everything worse. She was an open book, constantly wearing her heart on her sleeve. Everything she felt was _right there,_ on display, for all to see.

So why was it that only _he_ could see it?

It was why he was there, standing at the side door of the bakery and knocking gently to make his presence known. He was supposed to check on the Kitty Section merchandise designs that Marinette was sketching, but really, he just wanted to see her. The quality of what she was working on didn’t matter to him in that moment, or he would’ve just asked her to text them to him.

Once Tom had let him in and encouraged Luka to head up the stairs, Luka did exactly that. His footsteps as he went were rhythmic, even though his mind was playing discordant notes.

He knew enough about everything that’d been happening. He knew enough about Kagami and her relationship with Adrien. He knew enough about what’d been going on in Marinette’s class from what the rest of Kitty Section had told him. He knew enough about Marinette’s work and how much she did.

He knew enough about her being Ladybug. He knew enough about all the effort it must take to balance being a civilian with being Paris’ favorite superheroine.

And, as he tapped on the trap door and called out to her, he knew enough about tones to hear the tiredness in her voice when she replied that he could come in.

He entered, seeing her hunched over her table and working as usual. He could see various pieces scattered across the room, all with various degrees of completion.

“…Marinette—”

“Oh!” She scrambled, fumbling with the sketchbook she’d been working on as she picked it up. She spun her chair around to face him, her fingers pressing a little too hard against the pages as she presented it to him. “These are some of the designs I’ve been working on! Um, they’re not complete yet, but if there are any problems…”

Luka approached, bending down to get a good look at her sketchbook. They were great designs, as always, but his gaze was still drawn to her uncompleted projects strewn about the room, and he knew that Marinette noticed him being distracted by the way she wiggled in her chair, making it creak just slightly.

“They’re amazing, Marinette,” he said honestly. He considered what to say next, then settled on, “It looks like you have a lot of projects. Do you—”

“It’s fine!” she interjected. He looked at her and could tell that she knew her response hadn’t been natural. “They’re all going great and I’ve got plans for everything!”

She immediately turned back to the table and continued sketching. Luka could only let out a hum of thought, idly glancing at one of her earrings.

She couldn’t have plans for _everything,_ he was sure.

“I know Jule said this weekend, but I know you can get busy,” he said carefully. “ _If_ it’s ever too much for you, you don’t have to—”

“ _No,_ ” she cut in curtly. “It's—it’s fine. I can handle it.”

He didn’t miss the way her voice broke when she said it, and the strained expression on her face gave everything else away.

“I know you can.” He quietly wished that he’d brought his guitar. “And if you ever need anything, I’m here for you.”

She didn’t respond, the silence in the room filled by the scratching of her pencil against the paper. Luka leaned over just a little more, careful not to get into her space but also needing to see her expression.

Something was wrong, as he’d thought. Her eyes were locked to the paper, but her heart wasn’t into it. He remembered the sound of her sketching during the two-week preparation to make a video for Bob Roth’s contest, and this wasn’t it.

Softly, he repeated, “ _I’m here for you._ ”

She stopped drawing this time, eyes staring blankly ahead before finally darting over to him. She blinked a few too many times to be considered normal, then returned her gaze to her sketchbook.

“I—” She swallowed, then exhaled audibly. “I need to finish these.”

“For me?” Luka asked.

“No, not—” She straightened, looking at him and raising a hand like she was about to make a point, but stopped herself. “Not exactly. I know you—I mean—”

She blushed, but her face was hard to look at. She seemed pained, and Luka had to force himself to maintain eye contact.

She tore her gaze away from him, staring at the wall off to her side. “Never mind.”

Except Luka minded. He minded _a lot,_ and he was _certain_ that she’d said something significant just then.

He looked at her sketchbook, riddled with drawings and notes. He looked at the projects around the room, now wondering exactly who they could’ve been for. He looked at _her,_ noting the awkward posture of someone who’d clearly been working too hard.

Luka thought back to all the interactions he’d ever seen, along with all the interactions he’d ever heard about. He thought back to his _own_ interactions with Marinette, which had often left her with a smile.

He seemed to be an exception of some kind, and his heart ached as he became aware of the implication.

Things _had_ been rougher in the classroom as of late, hadn’t they? He’d heard enough to know.

“Marinette?”

She stiffened, and he waited until she was looking at him again to continue.

He gestured to her sketchbook. “I’m sure they won’t hate you, with or without these.”

The flicker of shock in her eyes confirmed his suspicion, as much as he didn’t want it to. Even as she tried to casually twirl a strand of her hair, he knew what he saw.

“I…I know,” she said unconvincingly.

Luka struggled for a moment, torn between a desire to dig deeper and a need to respect her space. He wanted to help her but he feared making her uncomfortable.

“You—” He hesitated. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, Marinette, but I meant what I said.”

She faltered, looking back down at her sketchbook and chewing her bottom lip. He vaguely wondered if he was selfish for wanting to be the one to help her.

He waited for what felt like a full minute, just to give her time to say anything, but she didn’t. Slowly, he lifted his hand from the table, turning and walking away to give her space.

He felt a hand grab his wrist, almost startling him with the sheer _suddenness_ of it. He glanced back, seeing Marinette leaning awkwardly away from her chair just to maintain her grip on him. Her head, however, was lowered, staring down at the floor.

“ _…Really?_ ” she asked, her voice quiet. “Do you really mean it?”

“Yeah,” he answered without hesitation. “I do. If you need someone to talk to about anything, I’m here.”

He felt her fingers twitch against his wrist, like she was debating with herself.

She uttered meekly, “Can we sit down?”

She was already sitting, but Luka knew what she meant. He let out a sound of agreement, and she let go of his wrist as they both made their way over to her chaise lounge. Luka sat down first, then watched as she sat next to him. Her expression was as pained as before, but now there was a willingness there; an acknowledgment and acceptance that he was seeing it.

“Luka,” she began, hunching over with her elbows on her knees and her fingers steepled in thought. “Do you… how much do you know about love?”

Luka kept his expression neutral. “What kind of love, Marinette?”

“…All kinds,” she replied patiently.

Luka hummed, resting his hands on the cushion as he leaned back. “Enough,” he answered, staring at the ceiling. “I love my mom. I love my sister. I love my friends.” He managed a small smile as he looked at her. “I love the song in my head.”

She clasped her hands together, her forehead pressing into her fingers. He couldn’t see her face, but knew he hadn’t made her uncomfortable.

She knew _very well_ what he’d meant.

“H-how do you know it’s real when you get it back?” she asked, a crack in her voice.

Luka leaned forward, copying her hunched position but letting his forearms rest casually on his legs. “Marinette?”

She shook, finally admitting, “I’m a _mess._ I don’t know what’s what anymore.” She opened her hands, burying her face into her palms and letting out a groan. “I thought I knew everyone and I thought I knew what I wanted, but I _don’t._ With Adrien, I—”

She flinched, even choking a bit. Luka, meanwhile, smiled reassuringly. “You can talk about him, Marinette. I don’t mind.”

He really didn’t, and she must’ve sensed that, given how her shoulders relaxed.

“With Adrien, I was so confused once Kagami showed up, then Lila came back to my class and just made everything worse.”

Luka, admittedly, had never met Lila, but he knew enough.

He knew _Marinette._

“I thought I had it. I thought I had everything right and everything was great, but…” She shook her head, palms still pressed against her face. “I _don’t._ I’m never sure anymore when people love me. It’s either unrequited—”

_Adrien,_ Luka was sure.

“—or it’s not the kind I want—”

He silently presumed it was Chat Noir, but knew he couldn’t ask.

“…o-or…”

She sniffled. Slowly, she lowered her hands from her face, and her eyes were shimmering. “or it feels _fake._ It feels like there are all these _rules_ and _requirements_ and _all these things_ that I don’t even know about until they happen.”

Luka saddened, wanting nothing more than to hold her. His hands twitched, feeling the need to touch her, but he kept the desire to himself.

She looked at him. “Did—did I do something? Is that why—”

“ _No,_ ” he said quickly. “No, Marinette, of course not. You didn’t do anything.”

She seemed grateful for his answer, but her frown didn’t waver. She hugged herself, only to then look dissatisfied by it. “I just… I want someone to _love me._ I want to be loved by someone who _means it,_ but I know I’m a _wreck_ and I’m not ready for _anything_ right now and…” She trailed off with a sigh.

Luka stared at her. He couldn’t _stop_ staring at her, even when her vulnerability hurt him. Half of his mind was repeating her words in his head while the other half was racing with a million thoughts.

Then, a single thought managed to sing louder than the rest, causing his usual calm demeanor to weaken and his body to go stiff.

No. _No,_ he shouldn’t do this.

This was stupid. This was out of line. This was _selfish._

The single thought then reminded him that he was the exception in all of this, and he let out a, “M-marinette,” almost involuntarily.

She looked at him, and he felt something inside himself crack at the way her song was playing to him.

“I…” He reached a hand out, going slowly to give her each and every opportunity to pull away.

She simply followed his hand with her eyes. When his hand got close enough to one of her own hands, she raised it towards him in an offer. Accepting that as permission, he gently intertwined their fingers.

“If you’d let me… if I’d work,” Luka began, pressing his palm to hers, “I’d happily be that someone for you.”

Her eyes went wide, but not with the shock of someone who hadn’t expected that response.

It was of someone who had hoped— _considered_ —but dismissed the possibility of such a response a long time ago.

It made Luka’s resolve all the greater, even when something in his conscience tried to protest.

“L-luka, no, I—” She shook her head. “I couldn’t. You—I’d be taking advantage of you. I like you - _a lot_ \- but I’m so confused.”

“I know,” he assured, “but you can be selfish with me, Marinette.”

He paused, considering his wording and realizing full well what both of them would be doing.

“…You can _be_ selfish _with me._ ”

She opened her mouth to reply, stopped, then simply stared at him with wonder and curiosity that he’d never quite seen on her before.

“Y-you—you k-know what I meant, right?”

He nodded. He’d agreed wholeheartedly, and she knew that.

She used her free hand to slide herself closer to him. “And you know _what_ that means?”

He nodded again. There’d be no strings attached, and he knew that.

Her face came closer to his as if she was testing him. Searching his eyes for any doubt or hesitance, she asked in a hushed whisper, “A-and you’re okay with that?”

He nodded once more, with all possible conviction he had. They’d _both_ be doing something selfish, and _they_ knew that.

Luka leaned in, just enough to give her a sign of encouragement. She breathed up, eyes half-lidded, then copied him by leaning in as well.

Her lips met his, and any reluctance that Luka had was washed away by the eager noise that Marinette made as soon as he kissed her back. She pressed against him, her hand clutching his hand tighter as her other hand went to grasp his shoulder.

Luka shifted for comfort, making it all the easier for Marinette to climb onto his lap. He reached his arm around her, his free hand resting against her back. At his touch, she let out another sound, this one surprised and elated.

Somehow, this girl who had all the friends in the world, who had the adoration of almost everyone in Paris, who knew multiple celebrities who’d praised her…

She was _affection-starved._ She didn’t want adoration, mindless attention, or even praise for her projects.

She wanted to be _touched._ She wanted to be _comforted._

She wanted to be _loved._

Marinette held the kiss for a precious moment longer, then pulled away, though she didn’t look like she’d wanted too. Luka took in the sparkle in her eyes and the _overload_ of emotion written all across her face.

He smiled, feeling overwhelmed himself. “You’re beautiful, Marinette.”

She gaped at him, blushing pink, and he giggled at how she was still surprised by his compliments after he’d just _made out with her._

Then, she gave him a smile in return, he felt his heart jump at just how _warm_ it was.

His _face_ felt warm too, actually.

Marinette leaned closer, letting go of his hand to wrap both arms around his neck. She glanced at him for permission, then gave him a tight hug and buried her face into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her in response, keeping the embrace gentle but loving.

He was in this now alongside her, and he was _not_ going to let her misconstrue how he felt about her, even for a _second._


	2. Akuma Got His Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having snapped at Marinette due to an akuma, Luka goes to Marinette to assure her that he didn’t mean a word of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Akuma Mention] [Hurt/Comfort] [Mentioned Confession] [Kiss]

Luka felt _awful,_ even knowing that what he’d said to Marinette was while he was under the influence of the akuma and not true in the slightest. He just couldn’t get the image of her tear-stricken face out of his head.

He didn’t hate her. He didn’t think of her as weak-hearted for being torn for so long on who she loved. He didn’t think _any_ of the things he’d shouted at her about, yet it’d still happened and he couldn’t get it out of his head. _  
_

He forced himself to go see her in person, not only because it seemed like the right thing to do, but because trying to talk to her over texts only got him short, empty responses in return. He didn’t know what he’d do if he had to read another, _“Yeah. I know. It’s okay. Thanks,”_ from her.

Upon arriving at the bakery, he noted that Tom and Sabine seemed to be in their own state of distress, which he could only imagine meant that they’d been affected by the akuma as well. There was a shared understanding when he made eye contact with them, and they practically _insisted_ that he go upstairs since they were too busy baking apology cakes.

As he walked up the stairs, he looked down at the sketchbook Marinette had dropped when she’d run off from him. _“I love you, Luka,”_ was written in bold, stylistic lettering on one of the pages, which was almost _definitely_ a confession she’d intended on giving him. Maybe she’d planned to put it on a shirt, or fold up the page and sneak it into one of his pockets.

Either way, it just made all of his feelings worse.

Luka arrived at the top of the stairs, but hesitated to knock on the trapdoor. He knew he shouldn’t - there was always the chance she’d shut him out - but eventually, the gentleman in him couldn’t help knocking anyway.

“M-marinette?” His throat was dry. “Can I come in? I know what I did - what I _said_ \- but I swear that I didn’t mean a word of it. I was the instrument, but someone else was strumming. None of those notes were mine.”

He waited, knowing that she was there but _also_ knowing that she had no obligation to respond to him. He felt so _disgusted_ with himself, like his body was tainted by being used for such purposes and he has no way of cleaning it.

A full minute passed. There was still no response.

Thinking that maybe he should go back and ask her parents if he might be able to stay over for a while, or the whole night if he had to, Luka turned and began walking down the stairs, his footsteps echoing.

Just as he was halfway down the steps, footsteps that were not his own chimed in, making him stop. A noise akin to a clicking followed, implying that Marinette had unlocked the trapdoor.

He looked back up and, after a moment of internal debate, approached and pushed on the trapdoor just enough to test it. Confirming that it was indeed unlocked, he steeled himself up and slowly let himself into the room.

Marinette was sitting on her chaise lounge, hands on her lap as she twiddled her fingers. He’d never seen her so pale before, and he could only imagine what other people must’ve said to her.

He closed the trap door behind him, but didn’t make any moves to get closer to her. He tried to speak up, but stopped himself at the last second, thinking better of it.

Thankfully, Marinette ended up speaking first.

“Ladybug told me that the akuma was made to twist everyone’s personalities into what I was afraid of the most,” she explained. Hunching over, she continued, “Some people… they really meant it. I got a lot of calls and texts from them, but they couldn’t take back what they said and just apologized for not telling me or because they said it in such an angry way like the akuma made them do.”

Luka grimaced. He just couldn’t believe someone could dislike Marinette so much that they’d do something like that to her.

He finally stepped forward, setting her sketchbook down next to her. “I know what you’re going to tell me,” he began, “so you don’t have to say anything.” He rubbed the back of his neck, staring off at the wall. “I…I don’t feel like I have any right to ask anything of you right now, but it’s the only way I can think of.”

He saw her look up out of the corner of his eyes, her mouth opening as if to say _“that wasn’t you, it was the akuma,”_ but she caught herself, clearly remembering what he’d just said about already knowing what she’d tell him.

“…I hate hearing my own voice right now,” he admitted, “so I’ll keep this short. Marinette, can you close your eyes for me? Please?”

She blinked, then titled her head, not understanding. Still, she didn’t seem to _need_ an explanation, as she obeyed anyway, raising her head up and closing her eyes.

He leaned down, keeping his hands on the chaise lounge so he wouldn’t touch her. There were too many words, all of which he’d need his voice for, and apologizing to her face was too hard when it was _his_ face that made her look so torn apart earlier.

Thus, he did the only other thing he could think of: kissing her, slowly but lovingly, and letting _that_ speak for him.

She didn’t move at first, but let out a noise that was a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite define. He was five seconds into it when it occurred to him that she might’ve been uncomfortable, even if she _did_ love him back. He went to pull away just in case, only for her mouth to chase after his so she could kiss him back, her hands gripping the layers of his hoodie to keep him there.

He let himself melt into her. He could sense her emotions better now, and none of them were asking him to pull away. If anything, she wanted _more._

Time passed, to the point where he started to feel his spine hurt from staying bent over for so long. Marinette, apparently sensing it, pulled away just enough to whisper, “Sit down for me?”

He obeyed, moving her sketchbook aside to make room and sitting down next to her. Her eyes remained closed, but she turned towards him, reaching out to grab both of his shoulders. She swung a leg around to the other side of him, his eyes going wide as she shifted herself onto his lap to face him. He forced himself to keep his hands on the chaise lounge, not wanting to move without further instruction.

Steadily, her eyes start to open, though immediately shut again as if a spotlight had been shined on them. A few seconds passed before she tried again, managing to fully open her eyes and really _look at him_ for the first time since he’d gotten there.

As she thoroughly studied his face, Luka couldn’t help feeling a little stiff, both from nerves and his recovering spine. Finally, Marinette let out a sigh of relief, falling forward and resting her head on his shoulder.

“ _It wasn’t about you,_ ” she says softly. “It—it was hearing the words that I was always afraid of, but… the face… the voice… they were yours but they _weren’t._ I hardly recognized you at first. Even when we were up against Bob Roth, your voice didn’t sound like… like _that._ ”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I got hit and I didn’t think to hide. I know it wasn’t _my heart_ playing for you, but—”

Suddenly, her fingers were against his lips, shutting him up. She inhaled, exhaled, then spoke again, a lighter tone in her voice now, “You don’t have to apologize, and you don’t have to explain yourself either.”

She paused, apparently for dramatic effect. “… _But,_ if you’re going to do it, you at least have to be hugging me.”

He gaped in surprise, and it suddenly registered with him that - before she’d covered his mouth - her hand had been trying to grab his while he’d rigidly _not moved_ in response.

Offering her a smile, even if he still felt terrible over what happened, he wrapped his arms around her and allowed himself to hold her like she deserved to be held.

Apologies and sweet nothings were quietly exchanged even after Tom and Sabine came up to give Marinette the apology cakes.


	3. Feather or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Marinette doesn’t meet with Luka and the others outside of school one day, Luka goes to find her and discovers something about her in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Winged Marinette Dupain Cheng] [Luka has Cat] [Luka’s Song Sensing Taken Up a Notch]

Luka smiled, waiting patiently at the front of the school. The doors were open, so he could see Juleka and Rose conversing with another student before slowly making their way out to him.

Ivan was also inside with Mylene, the latter of whom Luka vaguely knew from the times she’d show up to see their band practice. Ivan waved to her, then headed out after Rose and Juleka.

Luka only leaned a little as he looked inside again, trying not to make it obvious what he was doing. He just couldn’t see Marinette anywhere.

As Ivan, Rose, and Juleka stopped in front of Luka, they frowned as they glanced at each other. They turned their heads, as though looking for something—some _one_ —then met the other’s gaze.

“She wasn’t with you?” Ivan asked.

Rose shook her head. “She wasn’t with you either?”

They’d meant to meet with Marinette that day. They were supposed to go back to the houseboat to hang out a little before practicing. It wasn’t like Marinette was part of their band, but she was part of the _soul,_ and they _loved_ having her around.

“I didn’t see her,” Juleka murmured worriedly. “But she dropped _this_ on her way out of class.”

She held out something that everyone immediately recognized: a feather. Marinette was practically _known_ for them, so they knew it belonged to her.

In fact, that feather in particular was one they’d associate only with her. It was rather large for a bird’s feather and the sheer _purity_ of the white color was indescribable, meaning that it stood out as something special. They’d also only seen such a feather around _her_ before, so it was natural to make the connection.

Luka stood there silently, his eyes not leaving the school doors. Marinette wouldn’t have run off without telling them, and it wasn’t like there were any akuma nearby. She wasn’t the type to dawdle either, her body often on the move just like her mind was.

…Something was wrong.

Without a word, Luka passed the three and headed into the school. There were a few students lingering around, talking to each other, but otherwise, the area was largely empty.

It meant that it was just empty enough for Plagg to feel safe and pop out of his hoodie. “Looking for your girlfriend~?” he teased, lounging along Luka’s shoulder.

Luka shot Plagg the best look he could given Plagg’s placement, earning a snort from him. Still, it was enough to get him to retreat back into the hood.

Luka focused back on the task at hand and walked about, his eyes scanning each and every door in hopes of seeing Marinette somewhere. He considered asking Juleka to call her, but Marinette’s phone would probably be on silent, so he wouldn’t be able to hear it.

Thus, he focused only on finding her. He listened closely, blocking out any and all distractions so that he could keep his head clear.

He was searching for her _song._ If he were honest, he’d rarely tried to do it in this way before - considered how invasive it seemed - but he was concerned and maybe a little desperate.

Then, as he walked steadily around the school, he caught onto a note. It was just a single note, but he knew; he _knew_ it belonged to her.

He tried to locate the source, walking close to where he thought it might be coming from. As he approached one door in particular, more notes filled his mind, fitting together to make a small portion of Marinette’s song.

However, the string instruments were off. The tempo was shaky. There was a pause between the notes where there’d normally be none at all.

Beyond the door, he knew that Marinette was scared, and Luka was officially worried. He grabbed the handle, testing it and noting that it wasn’t locked despite the lights being off.

Without hesitance, Luka opened it. Almost immediately, a small voice cried out, “W-wait! D-don’t come in!”

He froze. The voice was definitely Marinette’s, but her voice and her song were telling him two completely different things.

After a moment of internal debate, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Marinette?”

“…L-luka?”

His eyes took in the floor, which was littered with white feathers that were exactly like the Juleka had. It was like a trail, drawing Luka’s eyes further into the room as the feathers seemed to increase in quantity the farther back he looked.

He stepped forward as he tried to follow the trail. Finally, his eyes locked on the hunched over form in the back of the classroom, practically braced against the back wall. Though the windows didn’t reach all the way to the back, there was more than enough light to see.

And there, he saw Marinette, who was looking back at him with wide eyes while her black jacket laid a small distance away, but what drew Luka’s attention more was what was on jer back.

At first, he could hardly process it, but he could undeniably see _wings,_ like what one might see on a picture of an angel. He was speechless, trying to fathom how he never could’ve known about or seen them before. Marinette hadn’t told him, and Juleka certainly never mentioned—

A nervous breath from Marinette cut off Luka’s thoughts. She was still crouched down near the back of the room, her body shaking as a few more feathers fell from her wings.

Luka approached her, covering ground quickly as he thought of how to tend to her. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew that Marinette needed help, and that was all the prompting he required.

He knelt down in front of her, hands raised just slightly to show that he was offering his assistance. “Marinette…”

She looked at him with surprise, then shuddered before averting her gaze. “I…”

He remained still, letting her take in every ounce of his attention.

“…I can’t hide them when they’re molting like this,” she finished.

He glanced at her wings, then the feathers all over the floor. Her fallen jacket now made sense, as its tightness likely couldn’t withstand such _massive_ wings trying to bust out. Idly, he also noticed that the back of her white shirt had been designed specifically not to cover the area around her shoulder blades, leaving the fabric completely untouched by the wings coming out.

“I-I wanted to bind them,” she admitted quietly, “but I lost track of time. I…”

Luka eyed the volume of her wings. “…Wouldn’t that hurt you?”

She glanced up at him, brows raised. She opened her mouth, closed it in hesitance, then opened it again. “A-aren’t you mad?”

The idea of him being angry with her was almost unthinkable. Rather, she always had the ability to put his mind at ease, and he could never imagine actually becoming _upset_ with something she did.

Thus, he shook his head. “No. I could _never,_ Marinette.”

She blushed, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck. Then, with a glance over her shoulder at her wings, she sighed. “I don’t have time to take care of all the feathers, so they’re stuck like this.” She stared at the floor apologetically. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know it’d happen today. I really wanted to hang out with you and the rest of Kitty Section…”

Luka eyed her wings thoughtfully, trying to gather all the knowledge he could from the little information she’d given him. If she still wanted to come with them, he’d do whatever he could to make that happen.

After a moment of pause, he turned his attention to his jacket and started to remove it.

Marinette looked at him, quickly becoming flustered. “W-what are you doing?”

He set his jacket aside, then began to remove his hoodie as well. With a look of reassurance, he offered it to Marinette. “Will this work?”

She gaped, staring down as the mass of dark blue fabric. He could see the gears steadily turning in her head despite her shyness on the matter.

“…Y-yeah.” She reached out, taking the hoodie in her hands. “Yes, this’ll do.”

She smiled, her eyes shimmering as she clutched the fabric to her chest. She looked up at him, glowing with gratitude. “ _Thank you._ ”

Luka felt his face heating up, but maintained enough of his calm demeanor to smile back and nod his head. Though, he perhaps turned around a bit _too_ quickly to start gathering up the feathers on the floor. He just hadn’t been prepared for her to look at him… like _that._

Roughly a minute passed, Luka taking care not to leave any trace of feathers on the floor. His arm contained a small bundle of all the feathers he’d gathered, though dumping them into Marinette’s backpack seemed like a messy decision.

“Here.”

Luka turned, looking back as Marinette slid her open jacket across the floor to him. She was now wearing his hoodie, the hood hanging over her head despite the clothing clearly being too large on her.

Luka’s gaze lingered on her, then redirected to the open jacket on the floor. He dumped the feathers inside, and Marinette followed up by meticulously folding her jacket over the feathers, even tying the sleeves around it to make it a carefully contained bundle. It was at that point that Luka noticed that she’d tucked his hoodie into her capris, acting as a “net” of sorts to catch any fallen feathers from her wings.

His blush deepened. Cute and smart was a _very_ dangerous combination and she pulled it off expertly.

Marinette smiled at the bundle in her hands, satisfied, then slipped it carefully into her backpack. She zipped it up, then took a relieved breath before looking over at Luka. “S-so… does it look okay?”

As she intentionally turned her back to him, Luka observed how his hoodie fit around her wings. She seemed to be keeping her wings against herself well enough, though looking too long at her back made the fact that there was something there more and more obvious.

Marinette, seeming to notice how unsure he was, glanced back herself. “Yeah. I’m not too confident in it,” she admitted. “There needs to be something else to help draw people’s eyes away.”

Luka offered his jacket, but Marinette shook her head at him, implying that it wasn’t what she meant. Given that, he opted to slip the jacket back on over his shirt, though it felt a little weird without his hoodie in-between them.

He stood, taking one final glance around the room to check for feathers. When he saw none, he turned back to Marinette, offering his hand to help her up.

She smiled at him, reaching out to take him up on the offer, but stopped just before her hand touched his. She paused, appearing to think as she stared at his hand like it was a piece of a puzzle.

Luka blinked, but waited patiently for her.

Finally, she blushed, becoming suddenly sheepish about making eye contact with him. Averting her gaze to the wall, she set her hand in his. “I-I suppose… maybe… you could wrap your arm around me?”

It took Luka a second to realize what she’d just asked of him, but thinking about it, it made sense. People were more likely to be drawn to his arm around her rather than any inconsistencies in how his hoodie looked on her.

As he helped her up, she stammered shyly, “I-I mean, you don’t _have to,_ of course, but—”

Luka said nothing, but smiled at her, holding out an arm as if he was waiting for her to snuggle close to him.

Her face reddened. She looked like she wanted to re-insist that he didn’t have to, but she did no such thing. Instead, she turned to her backpack, bending down briefly to pick it up.

She stared at him, a hint of desire in her eyes, then slowly stepped towards him. Luka wrapped his arm around her thusly, hugging her to his side as gently as he could. Though she tensed up a bit, her smile gave away that it wasn’t because he’d made her uncomfortable.

He glanced down at the backpack in her hands, imagining that it’d be awkward to carry it all the way to their destination. Reaching towards it with his free hand, he offered, “May I?”

Marinette looked up at him, then to his hand, then down to the backpack. “O-oh! Um… are you sure?”

He nodded. For her, he was _always_ sure.

With a grateful smile, she passed him her backpack. Since his other arm was already occupied with holding her close, he simply slipped the right strap through his arm, letting the backpack hang loosely on his back.

As he glanced over his shoulder, ensuring that the backpack wouldn’t be jostled too much, he felt a pressure against his side. Looking over, he noted that Marinette had indeed pressed herself against him.

Her face was red, but she looked happier than he’d ever seen her before.

“ _Thank you,_ ” she said softly. “If anyone had to know about this, I’m glad it’s you.”

Luka’s heart skipped a beat, and it was the only time he could really say that he was okay with a missed note. He didn’t know how else to respond other than pulling her closer, wordlessly assuring her that he was glad as well.

She hummed with content, then stepped forward, Luka matching her pace as they headed for the door.

He’d have a lot of explaining to do once they met up with the rest of Kitty Section, but it was infinitely worth it, especially with the way Marinette’s song sang ever free-er in his presence.


	4. Snakes and Ladybugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viperion worries about Marinette on the way to an akuma battle. Ladybug explains without words why he shouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Viperbug} [Concern] [Identity Reveal] [Kiss]

“Ladybug,” Viperion began, his tone indicating that he knew he was being unreasonable, “about Marinette—”

Ladybug turned, cutting him off, “She’s fine! I swear, okay? I took her, I put her somewhere safe, and she’s _fine!_ ”

She didn’t know why Viperion insisted on asking her that every single time they went out on a mission together, nor why he seemed unable to stop himself from prodding further.

“Don’t lie to me, Ladybug,” he insisted, looking at her like he felt he was being messed with. “Your song tells me everything I need to know. You didn’t take Marinette anywhere. You never do.”

She stiffened at the accusation, not because his tone was firmer than usual, but because he clearly wasn’t backing down this time. She couldn’t exactly blame him, given that he’d know it was suspicious of her to lie to him, but of _course_ she didn’t take Marinette anywhere; how could she?

She wracked her brain, instinctively falling back on more lies. “Ah—well, she’s only a civilian?”

Viperion stared at her like she’d just insulted his entire family.

“I mean—!” Ladybug grimaced, mentally scolding herself for wording it like that. Waving a hand dismissively, she corrected, “Miraculous Ladybug will fix everything anyway, even if she gets hurt somehow. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is–”

“It matters to _me,_ ” Viperion interjected sharply. “She…” He paused, closing his eyes and taking a breath to calm himself. Placing a hand over his heart, he averted his gaze and continued, “She’s the soundtrack of my life. I want to know that she’s okay so I can fight at my best without worrying about her running out into battle to help someone or being stuck under something that’s slowly killing her.”

Ladybug tried not to show any emotion, but involuntarily swallowed. Viperion looked distant, _distracted_ even, and she couldn’t deny that she _would_ run out into battle to help someone even if she wasn’t transformed. It was practically instinctive for her to do so.

And he _cared._ So few worried about her when akuma were running about, likely due to being used to her disappearing or not being around, but Viperion - _Luka_ \- did. He’d saved her a few times before when she’d had to de-transform temporarily and it was… _a lot._

It was a lot to just be _cared_ about to such a degree, and something about that thought was both nerve-wracking yet extremely comforting.

“V-vi—” She hesitated, then tried again. “Viperion?”

He looked at her as she approached and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“She really _is_ okay. She’s being protected.”

He seemed to recognize that she wasn’t lying this time, which just made him tilt his head in confusion. It was the perfect angle for her to lean up, grab his face, and tilt her head in the opposite direction.

He went rigid as her lips made contact with his own, but she didn’t move. His hands came up to grab her arms, as if to push her away, but something in him seemed to click at the last second.

He pulled her in, arms around her waist as he kissed her back. She let out a small squeak, not expecting him to do it so fervently, and the sound only encouraged him.

When she eventually pulled away, there was a recognition in his eyes that wasn’t there before. She smiled knowingly, assuring him, “You’re doing a great job of it.”

And with that, she gestured for him to follow as they proceeded with their mission.


	5. Black and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka Couffaine, hailing from the Tribe of Chaos, wakes up injured in the home of a cute human girl who - to his surprise - only wants to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Magical Luka Couffaine] [Blue-skinned Luka Couffaine ala Silencer] [Injuries] [Meeting for the First Time]

When Luka first awoke, his entire body protested at any sudden movements. It hurt all over, like he’d taken a serious beating and was now suffering the consequences. He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened, but it was too late to wonder; he was already hurt, after all.

His senses told him that he wasn’t in the kingdom anymore even before he’d opened his eyes, as there didn’t seem to be any magical energies anywhere near him. Looking around, he noted that his surroundings seemed to be that of a human’s house. He’d never actually _been_ in one, but it matched the few things he was told about them.

Suddenly, it occurred to him what all this could’ve meant. What if the human who lived there was the one who’d hurt him? What if they planned on coming back to finish the job properly?

Now on alert, Luka tried again to move despite his body screaming at him. His hands fell upon a plush surface as he forced himself up, the blanket that was on him falling to his lap. It took him another second to realize those two things (the plush surface and blanket), after which he finally noticed that he’d been lying on a bed.

He stared down in confusion, also noticing that his arms had been partially covered in fabric. Given its white color, it was easy to see the bandages wrapped around his light blue skin.

He’d been tended to? Someone had treated him? Why?

Before he could try to answer his own questions, the door clicked. Not knowing how to react, he simply froze as it opened, a girl around his age stepping out and meeting his gaze. He wasn’t sure if he should maintain eye contact or not, though his eyes briefly darted down to look at what he was pretty sure was his cape.

The girl gasped upon seeing him, then rushed over to him, her hand hovering in front of his chest without touching him.

“You shouldn’t be up yet! You’re hurt!” she insisted.

He blinked.

“…U-um, unless your kind heals or deals with injuries differently,” she considered, “in which case, I’m really sorry!”

“What—” He hesitated, having too many questions to voice all at once. He looked away and rubbed his head, settling on, “What happened?”

Her frantic mood seemed to cease, her panic turning to concern. “I found you at the bottom of a cliff. You looked really hurt and you weren’t moving, s-so I took you here.” She paused, blushing in embarrassment. “Is it a common thing for your people to throw yourselves off cliffs?”

“No,” he replied, still baffled. He felt stupid asking since she clearly already knew, but he still warned, “I…I’m from the Tribe of Chaos. You know that, right?”

She gave him a confused look. “Yes?”

“You’re not…” He hesitated, juggling a few words around in his head before settling on, “ _disgusted?_ ”

“No!” she answered, apparently horrified at the suggestion. “Besides, I couldn’t just _leave you_ there! You were hurt and your clothes were filthy…” She held out her arm that his cape was draped over. “I didn’t want to undress you without your permission, so I did what I could and went to clean _this_ at least, but then I realized that the fabric might be sensitive or maybe you like to wash it in a certain way, so I came to ask.”

This girl—well, she was a lot of things, but the most frequent word coming to Luka’s mind was ‘unbelievable.’ She was clearly human, yet she’d taken in someone like him and seemed to have no problem with the idea.

“I’m not burdening you?”

“Not at all! _I mean, that’s my bed but it’s not like I need it._ You need it way more than I do!” She walked over to a nearby rack, gently hanging up his cape so he could assess the damage. She stared at it herself at first, then turned to him with a discouraged expression. “I-I understand if you feel weirded out though and want to leave…”

Honestly, even if he wanted to, he didn’t think his body would hold out for that long. He felt ready to collapse despite having already been resting - well, _unconscious_ really - a few minutes ago. He still didn’t know what to make of this girl, but he felt his shoulders involuntarily easing in her presence.

“…I’m not weirded out at all,” he assured, offering her his first smile. “Thank you for your kindness, _really._ ”

He had no idea why his gratitude made her so happy, but he didn’t question it. He might’ve been used to seeing light blue skin on a person normally, as it was standard for his kind, but her pink-lipped smile against her light peach-y skin was… actually pretty cute.

“No need to thank me,” she insisted. “Are you hungry? Do you think you could stomach something? Or—”

He found himself plopping back down onto the bed, the exhaustion catching back up with him now that he’d confirmed that he was (for some reason) safe and welcome in this human’s home.

“Oh! Yeah, you rest!” she hurried out, rushing to fret over him as she pulled the blanket back up to his chest. “Just shout for me when you wake up… um, if you want to be fully patched up and everything, or just if you need something in general.”

She bowed - okay, she was _really_ cute - before turning away and heading off for the door.

Just before she disappeared, he asked, “Do you have a name?”

Stopping immediately, she turned around and gave him a questioning look. “H-huh?”

He didn’t answer at first, having not realized he’d asked until he’d already blurted it out. “…A name.”

“Ah.” She nodded, though fidgeting with her clothes. “Yes, I have a name!”

There was a beat of silence, followed by her realizing, “ _Oh,_ you—you wanted to _know—_ ” She blushed. “I’m sorry! It’s Marinette.”

“ _Marinette,_ ” he echoed, liking how the name sounded coming from both his mouth and hers. It only seemed fair that he gave his own name in return, so he replied with, “Luka.”

“Huh. _Luka…_ ”

He couldn’t tell if she thought his name didn’t match his appearance, or if she felt the same about his name as he did for hers. Maybe it was neither and she was just surprised that he shared his own name as well?

“Well,” she began, turning around again to leave, “again, shout if you need anything!” Placing a hand to her face in thought, she realized belatedly, “I-I guess it _is_ easier to shout for me if you know my name!”

There was a smile on her face as she left, and Luka could vaguely hear her giggle to herself when she closed the door behind her.

He relaxed against her soft bed, taking a breath to absorb the moment. He weakly raised an arm, eyeing the bandages again.

The pain suddenly seemed like a cheap price to pay in exchange for meeting someone like her.


	6. The Road Less Time Travelled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on a date that Luka had gently requested for her, Marinette confesses to her feelings for him along with a lot more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Time Travel] [Apologies/Regrets] [Confession] [Kiss]

Marinette couldn’t stand herself sometimes, particularly with her own logic. She should’ve known that there was no realm of possibility where she would’ve agreed to a date with Luka and then walked away from it like it was nothing, yet she’d done worse and gone on _multiple_ dates with him, one of which she was on _at that very moment._

She rubbed her face as she walked along the sidewalk, mentally scolding herself all the while. Luka deserved better than this - better than _her_ \- yet she kept indulging him because of how much she selfishly loved him.

She was partway to groaning into her hands when she remembered that Luka was walking next to her. She lowered her fingers just enough to peek at him, seeing that he was staring at her with a concerned gaze.

Ashamed at having been caught, she looked away from him. “S-sorry. I was… _thinking._ You didn’t do anything.”

She knew he was smiling reassuringly from his tone as he replied, “It’s okay.”

Except it _wasn’t_ okay, and there was no real way out of it besides—

Marinette fidgeted, growing uncomfortable. They were just talking a simple walk along the Seine, and yet she’d made it awkward by being unable to keep her emotions inside. She wasn’t going to get anywhere that way.

Steeling herself up, she stopped walking and turned to him, a firm, “ _Luka,_ ” coming out of her mouth before she cut herself off. He’d stopped alongside her to listen, but she sighed and opted to step away instead, taking a seat at the edge of the Seine. It reminded her of the time she’d had ice cream next to him while he played her a song.

Not that he’d remember it anyway, but she believed it was for the best.

“… _Ugh,_ ” she groaned, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, “you probably wouldn’t believe me.”

He walked over, sitting beside her and humming in thought. “You don’t know how a note will sound until you hear it.”

She shook her head, but knew without looking that he honestly wanted to hear what she had to say, provided that she wanted to tell him. He’d always been like that, which made it easy to love him but hard to hide anything.

Looking around, making sure no one was nearby, she finally let herself give in. She slumped and stared down at her lap, clasping her hands together anxiously as she explained, “I…I have a miraculous; the miraculous of the rabbit.” She glanced over at him without turning her head, gauging his reaction. When he didn’t show anything significant, she continued, “It’s not really used for battle, but rather for _time travel._ ”

“Time travel?” he echoed, his voice entirely neutral, merely absorbing and not disbelieving.

“Yeah.” She fidgeted, then turned towards him, unclasping her hands to settle one of them between him and herself. “Luka, before Adrien introduced us… you don’t remember meeting me, do you?”

His eyes went wide. “I met you before? Marinette, I’m sorry—”

“ _No,_ ” she interrupted. “It makes sense that you wouldn’t.”

He blinked, confused.

“That was another time; another _timeline._ We actually met a long time ago, back when we were teenagers. We were friends, and—you really, _really_ liked me.” She smiled at the memory, but it quickly turned back into a frown. “I was into Adrien though. I was stupid, and it took me _years_ to figure it out. _You_ were the one who told me that I was _clear as a music note, sincere as a melody,_ and it made me feel so warm inside to hear it, but then I just… didn’t _do anything_ and didn’t realize how I was feeling. I felt _terrible_ once I finally got it, because I really liked _you_ but I didn’t _deserve_ you. You’d been hurting all that time because we were so close and I still went after Adrien anyway.”

Unable to look at his shocked expression anymore, she turned away from him, continuing, “That’s why I knew I’d probably hurt you again. If I did it once, I’d probably do it again, so… I went back in time to tell myself not to meet you - to _stay away_ \- because I was sure your life would be better off without me. If Adrien hadn’t made us meet up, I’d probably still be avoiding you.”

The idea hurt, just as did the idea of not seeing him again after the night was over. Still, she forced the rest of the words out. “Just—you deserve to know all that, Luka. Please understand, it might be for the best that we not meet up again.”

The silence was chilling, combining with the night air to make her shiver. She shifted, waiting to hear something - _anything_ \- like Luka speaking or getting up, but there was nothing. She began to turn towards him, hesitated, then turned fully against her better judgment.

Luka was staring at her quietly, looking both dazed and thoughtful at the same time. She tried to discern exactly _what_ he was thinking about, but couldn’t get a read on him due to all of her nerves.

It was over, she figured.

She pulled out her phone and faked skimmed through it “…O-oh, um, wow!” she shouted forcibly. “Look at that! I’m late for my ten o'clock howling-at-the-moon session!” She stood up, lightly smacking the side of her head with her free hand. “See? I’m _crazy!_ I better—”

He grabbed her hand before she could move away. She winced, her fingers twitching on the hand he was holding. Chewing her bottom lip, she felt his gentle tug wordlessly urging her to sit back down. After a few seconds of internal debate, she relented, returning to her original spot and putting her phone back in her purse.

When she eyed his expression again, he had his mouth covered by his hand and was staring up at the sky. His thoughts still weren’t obvious, but she wondered if maybe he was thinking back on old memories.

In hindsight, she hadn’t been subtle, as it was too easy to get lost in just _enjoying her time with him_ without thinking about it. She’d known all of his favorite drinks and sweets without him telling her, she knew the layout of the Liberty like she’d been in there many times despite never stepping foot in there before - at least to his knowledge- and she hadn’t kept up the act of being “professional” around him for very long. Everyone knew that she wore her heart on her sleeve, so to _hide it,_ and around the guy she loved?

Not possible.

Finally, Luka turned to her, making her go stiff. He was gentle when he spoke, however, with no animosity in his voice.

“Marinette, I have a lot in my head right now, and a whole song sheet’s worth of things I want to say,” he began, “but first…”

He reached out, lightly touching her chin. His eyes firmly locked with hers, he asked gingerly, “ _Can I kiss you?_ ”

She gaped at him, going wide-eyed as she repeated his question in her head. Surely, he didn’t just—? She told him everything and he still…?

He continued looking at her patiently, even as every attempt to respond verbally just had her utter a small noise or two. She couldn’t comprehend his logic, but something in her took control enough for her to nod, giving him permission to lean in and press his lips against hers. She went rigid at first, too many doubts creeping up at once - _she didn’t deserve this, why was he doing this, it didn’t make sense_ \- but the feeling of his calloused hand against the back of her neck turned those doubts into a moan.

He took the moan as exactly what it is; an open invitation to continue. He leaned further in, Marinette having to adjust and keep one hand on the ground to balance herself. Eyes closed, her hand blindly reached out, touching his chest by accident before moving to his arm. He got what she was doing, his free hand rising to meet hers. Their fingertips brushed before they properly held hands, squeezing just slightly for effect.

Marinette was halfway into melting completely into the kiss when she realized exactly what was happening. She pulled her hand away from his, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and forcing him a small distance away. Her breathing was already heavy from the thrill of their contact, but she tried to remain calm so she could still speak up.

“I-I don’t…” She looked at him, managing a simple, “Why?”

He smiled warmly, placing a hand over the one gripping his shirt. “My life was fine, Marinette. I was happy enough with it, but… starting at the music festival, things were off. I couldn’t remember you, but I felt like I was missing something. The picture Juleka had on her cupboard made me smile like an idiot and I kept thinking I was just _that_ happy about her photo curse breaking. I’d hear your name and I didn’t know who you were but it had such a nice ring to it: _Ma, ma, Marinette~_ ” He chuckled. “I’d gotten so used to the feeling of something missing from my life that it surprised me when you came in and I felt that feeling going away. I’m usually not that upfront about telling people that I want to know them more, but the idea of letting you go without saying anything hurt me.”

She gaped at him for a good few seconds, then shook her head. “But… I hurt you? In the other timeline?”

“You mean by not being sure who you were in love with when you were just a teenager?” he asked. “And what did you do about it? Instead of getting together with me right then, you _went back_ and _changed time_ just so I’d never feel any heartbreak in the first place. You risked the timestream… for _me._ ”

“L-luka, it’s not—” She blushed, starting to see what he meant.

“You don’t understand, Marinette. No one’s ever done _anything_ for me like that. Of course no one would have the powers that you do, but people don’t just _think so much_ of me like that.”

“B-but you deserve to be thought of?” she argued, genuinely confused that he would imply otherwise. “And—how are you not mad?”

“Mad? At _you?_ Never.” He reached back up to her face, caressing her cheek, which she couldn’t help leaning into. “I wish I’d met you sooner. I wish I could remember all those years I spent with you, even if I was hurting, but if the outro is me being here with you and getting to know just how much you really feel about me, then I wouldn’t change a thing.”

She swallowed, thoroughly overwhelmed and not sure how to deal with it. She’d had a dozen scenarios in her head about how he might react to the truth, but even her best case scenario didn’t involve him fully accepting it.

She stared down at the Seine, not speaking for about a minute before finally saying, “I’m sorry.”

He went to interject, but she covered his mouth with her hand, giving him a meaningful look. His gaze softened and he removed his hand from her face, seeming to understand that she needed to say what was on her mind.

She took a breath. “I… I know you don’t have regrets, but I shouldn’t have made decisions without you. I shouldn’t have spent so much time fretting and worrying about everything when it should’ve been so simple. I reset time and, instead of insisting that you were the right choice all along, I went for the punishment of telling myself to _never meet you_ and it left both of us feeling different kinds of empty.” Her heart ached at the memory. “So… I promise I won’t do anything rash like that again. It’s just—I wish I could make up for it somehow.”

He nodded in understanding, taking both of her hands in his. “I don’t think you have to make up for anything.” He chuckled as she pouted, then he continued, “ _but,_ if it’ll bother you that much if you don’t…”

She straightened, nodding her head eagerly at him. She’d do anything for him and she didn’t care what it was, so long as it would help make up for what she did.

“I can think of one thing,” he confirmed. One of his hands released hers to move up to her face, his thumb brushing across her lips. His eyes glinted playfully as he added, “ _Two_ if you don’t mind showing me what you were about to do with your tongue earlier.”

She needed no further prompting.


	7. A House and a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka has some issues to work out concerning moving. Marinette offers to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Housemates] [Luka and Marinette Are Just “Very Good Best Friends” (in denial)]

“I’ve been thinking of taking my music somewhere else,” Luka admitted, his hand resting against the strings of his guitar.

Marinette glanced at him, noting the way he was leaning back and staring distantly up at the sky. It was a calm, quiet day on the Liberty, and there was an unspoken agreement between them that it made for the best time to talk about whatever was on their minds.

“You want to move?” she echoed, having been best friends with him for so long that he was easy to understand. “I thought you liked it on the Liberty?”

“I do, but…” He looked down at his guitar, then frowned and set it off to the side. “Not all the time. Mom’s… _a lot,_ and Jule really deserves to have the room all to herself, especially with Rose coming over as much as she does. I’m blocking their speakers.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. Sliding closer, she leaned onto him, resting her arms along his shoulder and chest while she settled her head down; a casual gesture for them. “I’m sure they all love having you around though.”

“Maybe,” he said, hesitating before averting his gaze from her, “but I also have to do it for _me._ ”

She leaned slightly to try and get a look at his face, growing curious as she saw a blush on his cheeks. “How so?”

He sighed, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. “…It’s a little embarrassing.”

“ _Luka,_ ” she called with a whine. Pouting, she added an over-dramatic flair to her voice as she argued, “You’re talking to the _queen_ of embarrassment here.”

He snorted, managing a smile. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“ _My point being–_ ” she stressed, opting to ignore what he said, “–you don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“I know,” he assured, looking at her fondly.

She got the brief impression that he’d purposefully set her up for that compliment earlier. “So? Why are you doing it for _you?_ ”

He scratched his cheek sheepishly. “I’ve slept in the same room as Jule for as long as I can remember, and it’s actually a little hard to sleep anywhere else without her. I have to get used to not having her around.”

“Oh.” She smiled, both at him and to herself. Even though Luka didn’t express emotions very visually, she knew how strongly he could feel about the things he cared about. “I think it’s sweet. Anyway, change is tough, so you basically want to get a headstart on it before you get even _more_ used to your usual, right?”

He nodded.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” she asked, brows furrowing with concern.

“Not yet,” he replied. “I have money, but it probably won’t be enough.”

A silence fell over them, but it was normal. Marinette used it to think, having an internal debate with herself as she stared up at Luka, who was looking back at the sky.

After a minute of thought, she leaned off of him, straightening and giving him the steadiest gaze she could muster. “W-what if… what if I went with you?”

Luka’s eyes widened as he suddenly jerked forward. He looked at her, then their surroundings, then back at her. “Um, what did you say?”

She fidgeted shyly. “I asked…what if I went with you? _Lived_ with you.” She blushed, raising her hands to make an assortment of gestures. “I mean, that way, I could pitch in and you wouldn’t feel bad about it because it’d be _my_ house too, and I know I’m not Juleka, but sleeping in a brand new house would already be hard, so I could sleep in the same room just until you get used to it? And I was already planning on moving out eventually anyway, but I was worried about going from so much energy with my parents and the bakery to having nothing, so you’d be doing me a favor by letting me stay.”

He blinked at her, still seeming to be processing.

She rubbed the back of her head, looking away and waving a hand dismissively at him. “But, I-I get it if that’s kind of a weird offer. I’m already a lot too, and practically the exact opposite of Juleka, so it probably wouldn’t even–”

She cut herself off with a squeak as Luka grabbed her hand, giving her a firm, intense gaze.

“It’s not weird at all,” he assured.

“Really?”

He nodded, offering a soft smile. “I’d _love_ to have you live with me, Marinette. I can’t think of any melody I’d rather wake up to every day than _yours._ ”

“Oh.” Her heart skipped a beat, and she smiled back at him. “Then… I’d love that too, Luka.”

They both found it difficult to return to what’d they’d been doing previously after a conversation like that, their heads in the clouds and their smiles refusing to break.


	8. Cata-Kiss-Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette meets Luka outside of school and notices that he’s acting weird. Just what is he hiding under that hood?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Luka has Cat] [Luka and Marinette Know Each Other’s Identities] [Accidental Kiss]

Marinette grinned to herself, an extra skip in her step as she listened to the students gossip on her way out of school. The ladybug and cat being the heroes of Paris was still very much a new thing for everyone, so talk about them was widespread and she felt all giddy inside when she heard them being praised.

Maybe it was a little egotistical for her to feel prideful about it, but she also felt pride on behalf of her partner. He’d been with her since the very first akuma, so she was thankful for his being there and saw them as equals.

Luka was a great cat, and she felt like she was a great ladybug to match him. She didn’t fully understand her kwami’s explanation of them being protected from mind control due to kwami “interference,” but she didn’t complain either, as it meant that she had someone to talk to about her superhero life.

She went out the doors, about to take the first steps down when she suddenly heard a hushed voice call out, “ _Marinette?_ ”

She stopped, head darting around before her eyes landed on someone dressed in blue, white, and black, standing off to the side behind the stairs with their hood on. She squinted, swearing that they looked familiar, then gasped happily as she recognized them as Luka.

She’d just never seen him with his hood up before.

She rushed down the stairs, stopping when she was a few steps away so she could meet him at eye level. “Hey—” She paused, noticing his brows furrowed in concern.

“Can we talk in private?” he asked, nudging his head towards the bakery.

“O-oh, of course!” She hurried down from the rest of stairs to turn and stand next to him. Even though she knew he wanted to talk elsewhere, she was officially worried and blurted out, “What’s wrong?”

That got him to chuckle at least.

They walked to the bakery together, though avoided the front door so as not to be seen by Tom and Sabine. Marinette opened the side door for him, seeing that both of his hands were preoccupied by keeping his hood up, then closed the door behind them when they were both safely inside.

They passed the door frame leading to the bakery, then stood in the middle of the hallway next to the staircase. Luka turned to face her, Marinette being a mix between curious and worried.

Mostly worried. She knew Luka well enough to know that he wasn’t the type to fret unless they were referring to the frets of his guitar.

Luka took a breath. “ _These_ showed up a little while ago.”

Marinette opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but he promptly pulled his hood back, revealing the pair of _cat ears_ that he’d been hiding the whole time. Her mouth remained open in a gape, her eyes blinking rapidly to see if maybe the ears would disappear the next time she opened her eyes.

“O-oh.” She leaned to the side, noticing that his human ears had magically gone too, even though it was hard to tell with his messy hair. “Oh.” She focused back on the ears, reaching up and taking one of them between her thumb and forefinger to feel it. It was soft and _definitely_ real.

“ _Oh._ ”

Luka shrugged as she put her hand back down. “It happened out of nowhere and Plagg didn’t tell me much. I was wondering if you or Tikki could help.”

Marinette was glad he was relying on her, but was dumbfounded as to what this could’ve meant. He turned to her purse, reaching down to open it as she asked, “Tikki? Have you ever—”

“ _Marinette!_ ” Tom’s voice called excitedly from the bakery. “Don’t think I didn’t see that _boy_ you brought in!”

His footsteps followed, Marinette’s panic immediately engaging. She looked at Luka, then practically leaped at him, bringing her hands up to clamp down on his ears. Luka recoiled, not expecting it, but leaned too far _back_ while she leaned too far _forward,_ which put her weight on him.

They both went down, his backside taking a hit on the hard floor while she had a much softer landing on top of him.

She realized half a second later that her _lips_ had been given the softest landing of them all, as she was _kissing him._

Tom poked his head out of the bakery, Marinette jolting up just in time to avoid him seeing the accidental contact. She had no idea how convincing she looked with her and Luka’s faces burning with a bright red blush, but she did her best anyway, looking over at Tom and excusing, “S-sorry, Papa! I was just—fixing Luka’s hair, but I leaned too much and we ended up falling!”

She imagined that Luka was nodding with her, trying to put more truth to what she was saying. Tom’s grin, however, implied that he was anything but convinced, causing Marinette’s blush to spread further.

“That’s my girl!” he exclaimed, sounding not at all innocent. “You’ve got the patented Dupain strength!”

With that, he slipped back into the bakery, _very likely_ to ramble to Sabine. Marinette sighed, then stared at Luka with a regretful, “I’m _so_ sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Luka assured calmly, his blush fading before hers. “You at least kept him from seeing my…”

He trailed off, glancing up at his hair in confusion. Marinette had the revelation that he did soon after, noting that she didn’t feel his cat ears under her hands anymore. Hesitantly, she pulled away, only seeing Luka’s usual hair where she’d been covering.

They looked at each other, thoroughly puzzled. Why would the cat ears disappear like that, and so suddenly too? It wasn’t like they’d done anything—

It clicked for both of them at the same time, each putting a hand to their mouths in realization.

_The kiss…_


	9. Paper Careplanes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the most part, Marinette didn’t have an opinion on the fact that her house was so close to the Seine. It’s only when she hears the sweet sound of a boy’s guitar that she changes her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Childhood] [Luka and Marinette Are Basically Neighbors] [Meeting for the First Time] [Paper Airplanes]

Being the little girl that she was (both in age _and_ height), Marinette couldn’t see over the railing of her balcony without a bit of effort, but that didn’t stop her from being there. The balcony was her little hideaway from the world where she felt that she could do whatever she wanted, able to recognize the footsteps of her parents before they actually showed up so she had time to break back into reality and hide anything she might’ve been working on for them.

That particular day, she’d taken to drawing, a box of crayons and a sketchpad at work for her; she’d gotten them for her birthday and hadn’t accepted anything else to draw with ever since. The crayons were plentiful, displaying more colors than she could’ve ever needed, whereas the sketchpad had paper about twice the size of a normal sheet.

She was given even more of an excuse to spend her time on the balcony that day since the wind wasn’t strong, allowing her to draw to her heart’s content without worry of her papers getting blown away.

Lying on her stomach, she was partway to drawing the light pink dress she’d seen in her dreams when the sound of a guitar made her stop. She’d heard music being played near her house a few times, but those were a lot more loud and chaotic whereas the current music seemed more subdued and calm.

She looked around, then pushed herself up into a sitting position and shuffled over to the fence of the balcony. Peeking through the bars, she followed the sound’s source to the houseboat floating in the Seine, practically right in front of her house. There was a boy sitting there, his back facing her and a slightly over-sized guitar in his lap. His hair was messy, but the tips were highlighted in a gorgeous blue color that put her crayons to shame.

The music he played was actually _really_ good, even though he wasn’t perfect at it, and she felt impressed since she didn’t know the song he was playing. Maybe he wrote his own music?

It took her a few minutes to realize that she’d done nothing but get lost in the sound, her paper and crayons left abandoned behind her. Snapping to attention, she got an idea and turned around, hurrying to get back to them so she could enact it. Without even a thought spared for her sketchpad, she ripped out a sheet of paper from it, setting the sketchpad aside and pulling out the blue and black colors from her box of crayons.

On the single sheet of paper, laid out horizontally, she took the blue crayon and started drawing various music symbols near the corners. She wasn’t a musical expert by any means, but she knew enough and added a guitar just for effect. Then, right in the middle, she used the black crayon to write a simple message:

_Your music is pretty._

That done, she pushed her crayons off to the side and began meticulously folding the piece of paper. Given that she loved arts & crafts of all kinds, she knew by heart how to do all sorts of origami.

Making something as simple as a paper airplane was almost too easy for her.

She took the folded message in her hand, then stood and walked over to a nearby stool, dragging it until it was right by the center of her balcony’s fence. She stepped onto it, now able to peek over the railing and see the houseboat without any bars in front of her vision to obscure it. Sticking her tongue out to the side, she reeled her arm back, then threw the plane in the direction of the Seine. A hint of doubt briefly overtook her concerning her aim, making her reach out for the plane, but it was far too late to stop it.

The paper airplane soared smoothly at first, courtesy of her throw, but dipped soon after due to the lack of wind. Marinette nervously bit her bottom lip, watching it soar another few meters before dipping again, even as she silently pleaded for it to go farther.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a gust of wind came from behind her. She winced at the chill, then gasped as she saw the paper airplane pick up speed and almost seem to steer itself in the right direction. It flew past the streets and sidewalks, turning just slightly as it actually reached the houseboat, causing it to swerve into the boy’s eyesight when it landed on the deck.

The music stopped as the boy’s head tilted down at the paper, clearly seeing it. He paused, then carefully set his guitar aside as he got up. He went over to the plane, then picked it up, examining it for a moment before finally starting to unfold it. Marinette giggled when he had the whole thing undone and held out, as it looked as if he were holding a treasure map.

She couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that she couldn’t see his immediate reaction, given that he wasn’t facing her, but hoped that the message made him happy anyway.

When his arms lowered, signifying that he was done reading, he looked around the houseboat, then turned to search the streets behind him. Marinette realized that he was looking for the writer of the message once his gaze drew upwards to meet hers, and she could just make out his blue eyes.

She squeaked, lowering herself at first to hide, then steeled up her confidence and rose back up, waving at him. He gaped at her, then began to frantically look around the houseboat again, even doing a spin to fully survey it but seeming disappointed at whatever he did or didn’t find. He considered the paper in his hands, then set it down on top of whatever he’d been sitting on, setting his guitar on top of a portion of it like it were a massive paperweight. Having done that, he ran into the houseboat itself, to the point where she could no longer see him.

She frowned, not understanding what he was doing. Had…had he not liked it?

Letting her nerves overtake her, she sank down, gripping the bars hard while she fought herself in the prison of her own anxiety. Maybe he thought it was weird to get a message from a stranger? Or… maybe her hand writing wasn’t neat enough. Maybe he was mad because she hadn’t drawn the guitar accurately enough!

Before she could worry further, the boy returned to the deck, having brought things with him. He knelt down and started to set them down, Marinette squinting to try to see what they were.

Her eyes lit up with relief as she realized: he had brought markers and his own piece of paper.

Excitement coursing through her at the prospect of what was happening, she grabbed the railing and pulled herself up, carefully balancing herself on top of the railing while kneeling down. Her mother would never approve, but she couldn’t hear their footsteps anyway and imagined they’d never know.

The boy finished whatever he was writing, then began to fold. Given the size of the paper he was using, she knew that it was going to be smaller than hers, but she didn’t mind; it’d just be cuter, that’s all.

He took the folded paper carefully in his hand, then looked up to her, at which point she wondered if he could really manage to fly the plane all the way up there. Nevertheless, he seemed determined, taking a few steps backwards with the paper airplane held high. Taking a breath, he then dashed forward, throwing the plane towards her.

The wind picked up again, this time in the opposite direction. Marinette leaned forward in awe, eyes sparkling as the paper airplane was flown her way, regardless of how many meters up she was in comparison to the boy. She gripped the railing for safety’s sake to ensure that she wouldn’t fall, but once the plane was within her reach, she couldn’t help herself. The wind in her hair, she raised her arms, gripping the paper with both hands while being careful not to crush it.

Losing her balance, due to both the wind _and_ her letting go of the railing, she fell back onto the balcony, though it wasn’t anything painful compared to her usual clumsiness and she was far too happy to care. She sat up, trying not to rush while unfolding the paper in fear of tearing it somehow.

The message he’d written was simple, like hers, but it made her smile regardless.

_Thanks. I like your drawings._

She beamed, then set the paper down and hopped back up on the stool to look at him over the railing. She waved at him, which he returned with his own and a happy smile on his face. Now unable to help herself, she got back down and returned to her sketchpad, humming the song he’d been playing earlier as she thought of what to write back.

Thus began their daily habit of sending paper airplanes to each other, favored by the wind and delivered successfully each time.


	10. The Realm of Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette could use some serious help in the romance department. Luckily for her, Sass knows just the guy to send her to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Multiverse] [Pre-Established Relationship… sort of]

“ _I’m never dating again!_ ” Marinette declared, throwing her hands up and slumping face-down onto the table. To say that her relationship with Adrien had been a disaster would be an _understatement,_ and after _years_ of attempts to get him to notice her just for their romance to fall apart in even less time, she was officially _done_ with everything love-based.

A few of the kwami - the ones who enjoyed leaving the Miracle Box to lounge around her room - looked on with concern, but it was ultimately Sass who flew out from his place under her lamp in order to approach her.

“Are you sure you want to give up?” he asked.

Marinette whined, tilting her head just enough to look at him. “Yeah. I just—” Her gaze lowered to the table. “—can’t see it working with anyone else. It feels like it’s been _forever_ since I’ve interacted with other guys.”

Sass hummed thoughtfully, letting himself drop next to her in a sitting position. She tried not to make eye contact with him, feeling as though she looked pathetic and not wanting anyone to see it.

“Would you like my help, Master?” he offered.

She muffled her confusion into the table. When she sensed him waiting patiently without responding, she relented and looked over at him again.

“I am _more_ than the kwami of second chance.” He spread his arms out. “I am a kwami of _possibilities._ I believe you humans refer to it as the multiverse.”

“The multi…” She trailed off, sitting up with interest. “So you see other universes?”

He nodded, then stood, flying to be eye-level with her. “May I show you?”

She had no idea what that entailed, but couldn’t help being curious. Sass had a certain mysterious demeanor about him yet was ultimately helpful even if he teased her from time to time.

“…Okay,” she answered, trying to sound confident in the choice.

He grinned - not helping her hesitation at all - then flew close enough to where she had to cross her eyes to look at him. He raised his paws, then moved her bangs with one paw so he could lightly tap her forehead with the other.

Marinette blinked, momentarily confused before a sudden bout of exhaustion hit her. She swayed, vision blurring even as Sass kept on a calm smile. She fell back and shut her eyes tight, fearing the impact of the hard floor.

Yet, she hit something soft instead, the whole atmosphere around her shifting dramatically. The scent in the room wasn’t unlike her own, though it mingled with another that was vaguely familiar to her. She had enough awareness to realize that she was in bed, as she could also feel a blanket covering her, yet that didn’t seem to be where the _warmth_ she felt was coming from.

Then, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, followed up with a kiss on her forehead. A warm, groggy voice hummed, murmuring softly, “Morning, love.”

Her eyes widened. She shifted, trying to force her body awake enough to peek at the source of the voice. She noted the blue eyes that nearly matched her own, complimented by the black hair with blue highlights, and it took her a few seconds to process that she was being cuddled by none other than _Luka Couffaine._

She blushed red, pushing away and forcing herself back as much as she could. Unfortunately, “as far back as she could” meant that she hit the edge of the bed in no time and went right off of it. She managed to snag the blanket in an attempt to save herself, but only succeeded in taking it down with her.

Luka moved surprisingly quickly, grabbing hold of her upper arm and saving her from an unpleasant meeting with the floor, her legs mostly on the bed while the rest of her body remained suspended only by Luka’s hold. “Marinette, are you alright? Did you—”

He paused suddenly as their eyes met, and she almost felt like her soul was being stared into when he squinted at her. She averted her gaze, opting to take a look around the room. It definitely wasn’t the one she remembered, but there was a mix of things both her and Luka would own; or at least, what she’d _imagined_ Luka would own.

“…You’re not _my_ Marinette, are you?” he asked.

“H-huh? Um—” She met his gaze, still trying to grasp the situation. Failing that, she could only let out another, “ _Huh?_ ”

Finally, Luka snorted, covering his smile with his free hand. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.” He tugged at her arm, shifting her so she was sitting on the bed and tossing the blanket behind her. He then moved past her, getting off the bed so he could stand in front of her. “Sass sent you, didn’t he?”

“I…I think?” she replied, her memory slowly returning to her after such a big surprise. “Ah—yeah! He did.”

He chuckled. “I know he’s not _my_ Sass, but still, I’m sorry he surprised you.” Taking a step back, he bowed, which looked incredibly amusing given that he was still in his pajamas. “I’m Luka, another Marinette’s boyfriend. Maybe you’ve met me in your universe?”

She could only nod. Of _course_ she’d met him, but it’d just—been so long since she’d really seen him. They’d gotten busy, lost contact, and she’d only really had time for a few people in her life.

“So…” she began, still thoroughly confused, “what’s going on? Why did Sass send me here? He talked about the multiverse and something about helping me, but…”

He smiled reassuringly, explaining, “Sass sends off-key Marinette to me. He started doing it a long time ago.” He gestured to the spot next to her, then waited for her to nod so he could sit there. “You girls seem unlucky no matter what the universe is, and I guess he thinks I’m the best at tuning you.”

“…Wait—” Marinette piped up as the situation finally registered with her. She stood, pointing to herself. “My Sass sent me here to—to know what it’s like to _date you?_ ”

“If that’s what you want, yeah,” Luka answered casually, “or if you’d rather I just treat you to a nice time.”

He glanced away from her, and she followed his gaze to a picture lying on his nightstand. It featured both himself and who she presumed to be _his_ Marinette, his eyes warm and loving as he admired it.

“I have a bit of a soft spot for all Marinette, apparently. Sass had the idea and me and my Marinette decided to help out.”

“Oh.” She nodded, pretending to grasp everything when she definitely didn’t get all of it. “You two just… _agreed_ to it?”

He gave her a sympathetic look, seeming to recognize that she was struggling. “Do you want to talk about it more over breakfast?”

She blinked, but couldn’t deny that the prospect of food sounded _really_ nice at the moment. She really considered it as well, supposing that it’d be rude to reject Sass’ assistance when she’d already agreed to it.

Plus, it was nice seeing Luka again, even if it was another version of him.

“A…alright. Nothing fancy, okay?”

“Okay,” he promised. He pushed himself up, then offered his hand to her, his look assuring her that there wasn’t any pressure to take it.

Yet, something compelled her to take it anyway. She allowed him to lead her to the kitchen, taking him in as they went.

She hadn’t quite realized how much she’d missed Luka until now.


	11. Spirited Astray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka, having been in a spirit state for a while, feels miserable about his plan to get Marinette together with her crush (via possession, one of his few capabilities) falling through. Turns out that Marinette doesn’t mind as much as he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spirit Luka Couffaine] [Possession] [Confession]

Luka groaned, sitting on the edge of the Liberty and running his fingers through his hair, still lamenting how badly he’d messed up even though a week had passed. Being in his temporary spirit form didn’t give him any right to take things as far as he did, yet he’d gone through with it anyway. He imagined that Anarka would’ve been proud, but to him, that was all the more reason to regret what had happened.

And all for a _girl._ Taking advantage of his family’s chaotic connections to spirits and the like to use it for himself? Granted, he supposed that’s what the Couffaine family had always stood for - personal happiness - but that didn’t make it _right._

In the middle of his mental scolding, he heard a voice call out from behind him. “…U-um, hello?”

Luka stiffened at the familiar voice, but ultimately chose to ignore it. He’d long since gotten used to people seeming to talk to him when they actually weren’t, and that 99.99% of Paris wasn’t able to even _see him_ anyway.

“Ah—” the voice spoke again. “Y-you! With the highlights!”

He blinked in surprise at that, then looked around for Juleka or just generally _anyone_ with highlights. Finding no one, he finally turned around, noticing _the_ girl - Marinette - staring _directly at him_ from across the Seine. He pointed at himself, just to be absolutely sure, and she nodded at him.

If he had a heart right now, it would’ve skipped a beat. It didn’t make sense. There were limitations to his spirit form concerning who could and could not see him while he was in that state.

The only way she should’ve been able to see him was if she loved him in some capacity.

He stood, hopping off the edge of the Liberty and floating over to her. There was a certain level of shock and awe in her expression, but she nevertheless stepped back to make room for him to land in front of her.

“ _Um._ ” She twirled a strand of hair, staring down at the ground. “Sorry, this is all a little weird for me, but you—” She peeked up at him. “You were possessing A-adrien all that time, right…? I-I saw you fly out of him r-right before I was about to kiss—um— _you? Adrien?_ I don’t know.”

He frowned regretfully. “I’m _so_ sorry. I knew it was _his_ attention you wanted, but I—”

“N-no! _No!_ ” she interrupted, flailing her arms at him. “That’s…” She fidgetted, toying with the bottom of her shirt. “That’s what I came to talk to you about?”

He tilted his head, not understanding but seeing how much effort she seemed to be taking to talk with him.

“I—” She sighed. “This is going to sound so _dumb._ I don’t even know your name, but… s-see, I got to spend some time with Adrien after you left, and it just— _wasn’t the same._ ”

He imagined it was a stupid question, but couldn’t help asking anyway, “Isn’t that a good thing? You wanted to spend time with the real Adrien, right?”

Her blush deepened. “I did. I _thought_ I did, anyway, but I mean that it wasn’t the same because I liked spending time with _you_ more. I idolized Adrien, but when I got to see the real _him_ …” She slumped, seeming regretful. “I ended up disappointed. All I could think of was when it was _you_ and how calm and comfortable you made me feel. I…”

She met his gaze, her eyes staring into his so intensely that he swore it was having an effect on his physical body.

Rushing out the rest of the words, she stammered, “ _I-I fell in love with you!_ ”

Luka’s jaw dropped. Had she really just said that, or had he _actually_ died and this was just some sort of afterlife hallucination?

Meanwhile, Marinette looked away in shame, apparently embarrassed by her own confession. “A-anyway, I just had to say that. If the whole possessing thing was just a prank, that’s okay. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

He snapped back into focus as she turned away and began to walk off. He reached out in a futile attempt to grab her hand but, failing that, hurried to get in front of her. She stopped - which was great because she could’ve just walked through him if she really wanted - then looked up at him in confusion.

“It wasn’t a prank,” he corrected. “ _Not at all._ ”

“R-really?” she asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

“I’m not the type of person who’d just _possess_ someone, and I knew it wasn’t right, but—” His gaze softened, posture relaxing at the memory. “I saw you and that was all I needed. You were a music box begging to be listened to, and I wanted nothing more than to do just that. When I saw you were into Adrien, I thought maybe I could help so you could be happy. I thought I could have him spend time with you or mess around with his schedule, and I tried to excuse it by saying that he’d be happy in the end because who _wouldn’t_ be happy with you?” He sighed, the regretful feelings coming back. “But I got selfish. I loved hanging out with you so much that I kept up the act way longer than I should’ve. I fell for you, and it was only when you were about to kiss me— _Adrien_ —that I realized how much I’d been deceiving you.”

She blushed at that. Placing a hand to her heart, clearly touched, she asked, “B-but you just wanted me to be happy? Even though…”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Even if my real body wasn’t unconscious right now, you were in love with someone else.”

She let out a breath, and he couldn’t tell if she was relieved or merely absorbing everything he’d said. It took a few seconds for her to smile, echoing him with, “ _Were._ Past tense.”

“Ah—” Right. She’d just _confessed to him._ “Yeah…”

They stayed in that silence for a moment, Luka watching as the nervousness Marinette had shown before ebbed itself away, her back straightening and her previous shyness disappearing. As if she were having a casual conversation with him, she asked, “Can I have your name then?”

She’d surprised him yet again. It wasn’t as if it was a weird thing to ask, given that they technically knew each other in a way, but he was still having a hard time grasping how serious she seemed to be about this. “Marinette, I’m grateful, _I’m happy,_ but I don’t have anything to offer you like this.” He gestured to himself. “Almost no one can see me but you. I don’t know when my body’s going to wake up. You can’t even touch me.”

“That’s okay.” She giggled. “You were always so respectful of touching me in Adrien’s body anyway so it’s not like that much will change.”

He let out a shocked noise from his throat, unable to believe that she had the capacity to _joke_ when he was bringing up what he felt were _extremely_ legitimate concerns. Yet, there she was, standing confidently in her feelings and doing far too much to him emotionally than should’ve been possible to happen to a spirit.

He exhaled despite not needing to, mostly just to fill the silence, then replied softly, “Luka.”

“ _Luka,_ ” Marinette repeated, beaming at him. “My secret boyfriend. I like it.”

Luka was speechless, even as she bid him a fond farewell and walked away. He was glad to be invisible to most of the world, since he was sure he looked stupid standing there. Marinette was not only _okay_ with the knowledge of his deception, but apparently they were dating now?

Eventually, he got himself to move and fly back to the Liberty, returning to his sitting position with _very_ different feelings than before. He passed the time by replaying the scene in his head, just to make sure it really happened and that there was no way he could’ve somehow made it up.

Juleka returned home within the hour, though he didn’t notice her until she was crossing the gangplank with a firm, “Hey.”

He looked up, and she was halfway down the steps before her expression contorted into abject horror. She recoiled from him, falling back onto the gangplank and shielding herself with an arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“ _Ugh._ ” She made a vague gesture at him with her free hand. “You’re _radiating_ mushy love energy. At least do it at the front of the ship where it’s not in my face.”

That was when it registered with Luka that it was real; that Marinette really showed up, confessed to him, and called him her boyfriend. He broke out into a smile, even as Juleka practically _begged him_ to “tone it down.”

“Sorry, Jule,” he said, very much _not_ sorry, “I think I’ll be playing at full blast for a while.”


	12. Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viperion suffers through the drawbacks of his cold-blooded miraculous and Marinette helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Vipernette} [Miraculous Cure With No Ladybug] [Miraculouses Have Side-Effects] [Meeting for the First Time] [Hugs]

Cold-blooded miraculouses were a double-edged sword, as Luka had learned in his time as Viperion. On one hand, in addition to having heightened abilities that varied with the miraculous itself, cold-blooded miraculouses tended to have something special about them.

The ladybug could restore things to normal after an akuma battle.

The dragon had three different powers to use at their leisure.

The snake had a way around their timer, resetting as many times as they liked as long as it was within a five minute period of time.

On the other hand, they were at an inherent disadvantage when it wasn’t warm out. In the cold, it was harder to function and stay awake as the cold began to seep into their bodies. Battles that would seem easy during the summer were suddenly a _nightmare_ during the winter.

That was why Fu was careful when picking holders for such miraculouses, because the rules were not _entirely_ cruel. In fact, cold-blooded miraculouses could maintain a certain degree of warmth whenever their holder was in a warm place. It could hold onto the warmth for a period of time, preserving their holder’s newfound body heat to keep them protected temperature-wise for as long as possible.

In civilian form, it wasn’t as much of a problem. Luka found that lingering in heated music stores for a while was usually enough to keep him warm for the day.

His superhero form was an entirely different story, often not even leaving enough warmth to _get_ to the battle, much less _maintain it._

Luka supposed, in a way, that it was his fault.

When Fu had picked holders, he gave warm-blooded miraculouses to people who were unlikely to receive a lot of warmth or physical contact in general.

Chat Noir, for example, supposedly had a rough home life that didn’t involve a lot of physical contact from people, so him having a warm-blooded miraculous was beneficial. Ryuko, while cold-hearted, apparently had someone she could rely on for warmth and affection, ensuring that she could stay warm for as long as possible.

Plus, Chat always seemed eager to help at the slightest stiffening from her.

Luka, meanwhile, while a warm-hearted person, did not easily give out physical contact. He respected other people’s space, never moving in for a hug or even a simple holding of a hand unless they either offered it first or gave him permission. In a way, it was a conundrum: he _needed_ that warmth, but because he was too respectful, it gave people the impression that he wasn’t a physically affectionate person.

And that was how Luka ended up in battle, as Viperion, not able to do a thing as the akuma grabbed him and flung him carelessly into the air like some sort of ragdoll. He was sent flying - falling - and he couldn’t do a thing about it.

He vaguely heard the shouts of his teammates, but they were far off by now. Viperion could only make out the rush of wind and hear the cracking of glass against his body as he fell through a window, sliding against the ground until he hit something that stopped him.

He smelled fresh baked goods all around him - a bakery? - though he was honestly so tired that he couldn’t open his eyes to check. The warmth it was providing was nice, but with how cold he was, it probably wouldn’t be enough.

Then, he heard footsteps approaching, though he could tell that they weren’t the akuma’s. They were quick, maybe a little unsteady, but full of energy.

A voice called out to him, but he couldn’t hear it very well, still delirious from the cold and the crash.

Bells; that was what he got from the voice. There was a pleasant chime just like a bell.

Something touched his face. _Skin,_ he realized, and it was gentle…

It was _warm._

Briefly, he snapped enough out of the mental fog, managing to open his eyes a bit, but the hand retreated even more quickly than it’d arrived. He got a brief glimpse of the ceiling before descending back into darkness.

The voice sounded concerned - _shocked_ even - saying something about how cold he was. He didn’t really have a reassurance to offer, considering that the voice was right, so he didn’t say anything at all.

Idly, he thought it was a nice voice. The bells were prominent in it, but there were other, more subtle instruments that he hadn’t noticed before.

The nice voice seemed to request something out of him, though he wasn’t sure what it was. He could only let out a shallow breath.

Then, a warm hand settled upon his arm. He felt his arm being gripped and slowly brought upwards.

His arm was settled on a shoulder, the warmth intensifying.

Slowly, he was able to start making out the voice’s words.

“…ap your arms around me?”

Though he hadn’t heard all of it, he could make out the offer in the tone. He was being held up, being encouraged to do whatever was needed, and the warmth was _very_ warm.

His body complied. He turned slightly, wrapping his other arm around the comforting presence. Hands came to rest gingerly on his back, intensifying the already welcoming warmth.

He inhaled, the original smell of baked goods mixing with the scent of flowers and vanilla. Exhaling, he appreciated the slight tingling sensation as his miraculous went to work preserving the surrounding heat.

The bangle began to burn, but pleasantly, warmth building in his chest and then extending to the rest of him. The miraculous, after all, didn’t _take;_ it simply amplified the surrounding heat to soothe its wearer.

Seconds passed. _Minutes_ passed, and he was taking in every one of them, thankful that he hadn’t wasted away his Second Chance.

Mental clarity had never felt so nice; just being able to _think_ without feeling like it was some sort of chore. Viperion desperately wished that he could have that all the time.

However, with mental clarity came the realization that he was not only hugging a _stranger,_ but also that there was an _akuma_ on the loose while he was resting lazily in someone’s arms.

He jolted up, mind heavy with thoughts that’d had to build up and wait until he could properly process them. He didn’t even look at his savior’s face, turning quickly and jumping out of the broken window to get outside. The preserved warmth acted as a temporary shield, like invisible layers of pre-heated fabric that were slowly being stripped off, so he used the opportunity to leap up to the nearest rooftop.

Careful not to slip as he landed, he looked around and noticed a ruckus going on in the distance. He knew right away that they were his teammates, given that they weren’t exactly _subtle,_ unlike himself.

He headed for the next rooftop, preparing to make up for how he’d been so embarrassingly flung away earlier.

The battle itself, outside of having to deal with the cold weather, went relatively smoothly. He hadn’t even needed to use Second Chance, having had the element of surprise upon returning.

That was _one_ good thing about so easily being knocked away, he supposed; well, _that,_ and also the warm hug he’d gotten.

Once everything was over and Tikki had flown by to purify the butterfly and cast Miraculous Ladybug, Ryuko and Chat Noir waved before hopping off to leave. Viperion figured that he should probably return home as well since the akuma had been dealt with, but his mind drifted.

Really, he’d been rude to leave that bakery without so much of a ‘thank you,’ but he was in such a hurry. He’d panicked.

Glancing down at his bangle and reminding himself that he didn’t have to worry about de-transforming, he looked around and began to re-trace his steps back to the bakery, at least to the best of his abilities. His body was becoming cold again, but he tried to ignore it, knowing that he could de-transform and reheat himself somewhere if things got too bad.

Recognizing the bakery was easier than he’d thought. The smell permeated the building and Viperion could guess where he’d smashed through and where he’d hit off of even if the windows were fixed now.

He went for the door and pushed it open, hearing a chime of a bell to signify his arrival. It wasn’t quite the “bell” he’d been looking for, but it was still nice.

Multiple people glanced over to look at him, but only one stood out as she exclaimed, “O-oh! You’re back!”

He recognized the voice immediately and met her gaze, taking in the sight of her pigtails and bright blue eyes. She must’ve noticed that he had something to tell her, because she gave a man nearby - her father? - a telling glance before she turned and slipped into the hallway.

Viperion gave them man a similar glance, then followed when he confirmed that it was alright. The girl was waiting there for him, standing off to the side and shifting slightly in place.

“Sorry,” he said gently. When she looked at him, confused, he added, “I didn’t thank you earlier.”

“Wha— _no,_ no! It’s totally okay!” she assured, rapidly waving her arms in protest. “There was an akuma on the loose! There was no time.”

“Still, thank you for helping me,” he said, a little insistence in his voice. “I wouldn’t have been able to go back to fight without you.”

She put a thoughtful hand to her face, brows furrowed with worry. “I-I mean—how _couldn’t_ I have helped? You were like _ice._ ”

He smiled, noting that she must’ve been the type who couldn’t fathom the idea of _not_ helping someone. It was adorable. “It’s just something I have to deal with for the winter, thanks to my miraculous.”

She blinked, eyes curious. “Your… _miraculous?_ It’s a normal thing in winter for you?”

“Yeah.” He raised his wrist so she could see the bangle on it. “I can’t stay warm on my own. Ryuko goes through the same thing, but Chat Noir’s usually there for her.”

“Can’t Chat Noir help you too?”

He shook his head. “We thought about it, but it makes Chat too big of a target, so I manage on my own.”

The girl pouted, flailing at him as she argued, “If by 'manage,’ you mean almost turn into a snake-y icicle! I thought you were about to _die!_ ”

He chuckled, but was genuine as he apologized again. “I’m sorry.”

She was still pouting, but seemed to accept that. She glanced at the wall, almost as if she could see through it to the bakery itself, then looked back at him. “S-so… that happens all the time?”

He hesitated, not wanting to worry her but not wanting to lie either. “Not… _all_ the time.” When she turned skeptical, he added quickly, “Anyway, I’ll just have to be more careful and warm myself up more in advance.”

“Is that doable?”

He tilted his head in response.

She grew sheepish, clarifying, “I-I mean, I don’t know about how hard it is being a hero, but I figured that you’d be the type that’s already been trying their best?”

He was surprised by the sudden praise, and also couldn’t deny that she was right. He’d been doing his best to stay warm, but there was only so much he could do without his behavior being considered strange.

After a moment of thought, he assured, “I’ll figure something out. I just came to thank you, so—” He smiled. “—thank you again.”

She blushed, clasping her hands at her waist. She averted her gaze to the ground, as if in thought, then peeked back at him. “Um… you’re welcome.”

He gave her an appreciative nod, then turned and began to walk towards the door. Before he could get all the way there, he heard a soft gasp from behind him and suddenly felt his wrist being grabbed. “UH— _WAIT!_ ”

He jerked back, turning his head to look at the girl. He glanced down, seeing that she had both hands on his wrist.

She was still very warm.

He stared back at her, wordlessly asking a question. She paused, blinking at him with a determined-yet-blushing look on her face, then apparently noticed what she was doing. She recoiled, rubbing the back of her neck shyly.

“Um… if you ever need to get warm again,” she began, voice almost a whisper, “m-my parents say that I give the warmest hugs.”

Viperion was very sure that he looked like a fool, staring blankly at her with his mouth agape at the offer.

She pointed upwards as she continued, “My room is on the top floor. T-there’s a balcony that you can drop onto and just knock to get my attention. It’d be convenient, right?”

He followed the direction of her pointing finger to the ceiling, then looked back at her. It took him a few seconds to get his mouth working. “You’d do that? Would it really be okay?”

She nodded immediately, wide-eyed. “Y-yeah! I…I don’t want you freezing again, and I’d be honored to help in any way I could!” she assured. She seemed to realize something and flinched, adding hastily, “M-my name’s Marinette, by the way.”

_Marinette,_ Viperion repeated in his head. A pretty name for a pretty girl with a pretty voice, and she wanted to help him on top of all that. She was clearly awkward about offering at all, yet there was an insistence in her eyes that made her hard to refuse.

“…I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally replied. Grinning, he said, “At the very least, it was nice to know the name of my savior.”

“S-sav—” She blanked at him like she’d short-circuited, even blushing pink.

Giving her a fond gaze, he waved and began to turn away from her. “Stay safe, Marinette.”

He walked off, his ears catching her soft _“bye”_ just as he was closing the door behind him. Now exposed to the cold again, he made a quick escape to the nearest safe spot to de-transform. He was still a little cold, but he was sure he could make it home in civilian form.

Sass flew up, giving Luka a ‘job well done’ smile. However, he then blinked, looking curious as he stared at Luka’s face.

Luka blinked as well, noticing the gaze. “What?”

“Did something good happen to you?” Sass inquired. He grinned, pointing out, “You’re smiling more than usual.”

“Am I?” Luka asked obliviously, raising a hand to feel along his lips.

Huh. He supposed he was.


	13. Locker Buddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette arrives on the first day of school to find that someone’s things are in her locker. What might’ve seemed like something bad at first ends up being a neat opportunity to make a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Shared Locker] [Communication Over Notes] [Luka is Juleka’s Twin Brother] [Luka is in Ms. Mendeleiev’s Class]

It was the first day of the school year, and Marinette figured that nothing could surprise her. She’d dealt with just about everything she could think of on her first days, both good _and_ bad (mostly bad), so she imagined that she at least wouldn’t be caught off guard by anything.

Then, she opened her locker and found _someone else’s things_ inside. She blinked twice, just to make sure that she wasn’t seeing things, then closed the locker door to check the number on it. Without a doubt, it was _her_ locker, yet it was apparently being used by some mystery person.

_Definitely_ something she hadn’t experienced before, though she could think of worse things that could’ve happened. Still, what did it _mean?_

She inhaled, then let out a calm breath, not wanting to freak out over what could’ve just been a mistake. Keeping her things, she took them - along with her questions - off to the principal’s office.

* * *

“And you say that another person had already put their supplies in your locker?” Mister Damocles asked as he typed away on his computer, occasionally glancing at the sheet of paper Marinette had given him with her locker number on it.

“Yes,” she replied, a little formally given that she was talking to the principal. Leaning forward in her seat, she added, “I don’t want any trouble though. If they just put their stuff in the wrong locker, I’ll take theirs. It’s okay.”

He nodded, but focused almost completely on the screen of his computer. Marinette couldn’t help feeling anxious doing nothing at all, so she tried to occupy her time by looking around the room and swinging her legs back and forth.

She jumped when Mister Damocles abruptly cleared his throat, soon after his typing stopped. His expression was nervous even though he clearly tried to hide it.

“W-well, it wasn’t an _error_ exactly,” he began, “you see, we… had an increase in students this year that we weren’t prepared for.”

“Really?” she asked, unsure but also not seeing what reason he’d have to lie to her.

“So there just weren’t enough lockers for us to give one to each student. You and one of the students in Ms. Mendeleiev’s class happened to be the odd ones out.”

“Oh.” She slumped, considering that. It seemed unnecessary to put up a fight about it, and although the idea was a little strange, the worst case scenario was the other student taking something of hers that could probably just be replaced anyway.

Satisfied enough, she stood up and approached the desk. “At least now I know. I guess I’ll just have to work with it.” She turned, waving as she went. “Have a nice day, Mister Damocles!”

Mister Damocles nodded and waved back at her, grinning far too wide to be genuine. It was only once the door closed and she was gone that he let himself fall onto the desk with an exhausted grunt. He hoped beyond reasonable expectation that neither student ever had a problem sharing a locker with the other and decided to bring it up with their parents.

He just had no idea how he was going to explain that Chloe Bourgeois had demanded so many lockers for herself that it caused the problem in the first place.

* * *

Having returned to her locker, Marinette whispered an unheard apology to her mystery person, as she had no choice but to move their things so that she could put her own in. At the very least, she made sure things were organized so that their stuff didn’t mingle.

That done, she reached into her bag, smiling as she pulled out a stack of oversized - courtesy of her tendency to ramble, even in text - sticky notes, brand new and ready for the school year. She hadn’t expected to start using it so soon, but she knew from experience that classes didn’t seem to go to their lockers at the same time, meaning that it’d have to be by note if she wanted to communicate.

Using her nails to tear into the protective plastic around the sticky notes, she then pulled off a single note to write on. She sat on her heels, placing her closed sketchbook on her legs and putting the sticky note on top. From her bag, she pulled out one of her fancier pens, not wanting to seem sloppy to the person sharing her locker since it wasn’t like it was _their_ fault they were sharing.

She tapped the blunt end of the pen against her chin, having to think for a moment before feeling mentally prepared enough to write.

> _Hey, so it seems there weren’t enough lockers this year and we both have the same locker number because of it. I don’t really mind, but I could maybe talk to Mr. Damocles again if it’s a bother?_
> 
> _(by the way, I took the bottom shelf because I’d be surprised if you were shorter than me ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭, but you can have the two top ones, so I hope that makes up for it!)_
> 
> _Signed, 🌺_

It wasn’t very professional, but she hadn’t intended it to be, as she wouldn’t have been able to keep up such an aura for the entire school year if they ended up being okay sharing with her.

The decision to sign with a flower rather than her name was a matter of privacy; neither of them knew each other’s faces yet, so it only seemed right to use something less identifying than a name. She couldn’t help giggling, feeling as though it added an air of mystery to the whole thing and made her look cooler than she really was.

Putting her sketchbook and pen away, she stood up and stuck her note to the front of the top shelf, where the future recipient was sure to see it. She turned to pick up her pick up her bag, but realized belatedly that they might not have the supplies she had to write her back. Thinking quickly, she got another sticky note out, laying it along with a pencil on the middle shelf without specifically sticking them there, hoping the intent was obvious.

That done, she headed off to class, a little more bounce in her step than usual from the mixture of nerves and curiosity at the idea of getting a reply.

* * *

It turned out that she hadn’t had to worry at all.

> _Hey. I don’t mind at all. You don’t have to move anywhere._
> 
> _(and thanks, but I feel bad for taking both shelves, so maybe we can swap every other day or something? (;´~`))_
> 
> _Signed, 🎵_

Marinette grinned, amused by the fact that her locker buddy (as she now felt safe to call them) had signed in the same manner as her, yet their handwriting was very different. While she was more cutesy in her letters, theirs were more carefree, though she supposed that was cute in its own way.

Maybe sharing a locker would end up being fun after all.


	14. Locker Buddies (continuation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular request on Tumblr, "Locker Buddies" got another written piece~

> _Hey, so how did your first day go? Mister Damocles said you were in Miss Mendeleiev’s class?_
> 
> _Sounds terrifying! (O~O)_
> 
> _🌺_

> _Ha, it was alright. About as well as a normal school day could go._
> 
> _People tell me that I’m pretty quiet, so I guess Ms. Mendeleiev leaves me alone._
> 
> _How about you?_
> 
> _🎵_

> _I don’t think I’m a troublemaker exactly, but I can be late sometimes so I think she doesn’t like me._
> 
> _(Oh, wait, you were asking about my day, weren’t you? I’m sorry!! >///<)_
> 
> _Mine was okay too. Someone who bullies me ended up in my class (ugh, again) but she was distracted yesterday so she didn’t bother me. (Wait, is that too personal??)_
> 
> _Less sad topic: You wouldn’t happen to know Miss Mendeleiev’s name, would you? Miss Bustier’s name is Caline, but no one I’ve ever talked to knows Miss Mendeleiev’s! Maybe it’s a total mystery to the whole school! (OoO)_
> 
> _🌺_

Marinette left her response in the locker, then smiled and re-read her locker buddy’s note as she headed to class, thrilled that they’d gotten to their locker before her this morning so they could read the note she wrote for them the previous day. The music note they’d always signed with made her creative mind go wild and she wondered if she’d ever done any music-themed fashion before. Maybe it’d be fun if she did a little research first?

Walking into class, Marinette headed for the seat she’d chosen yesterday; the desk at the front of the class, right near the window. It hadn’t been her first choice, but due to being late for class the previous day since she’d gone to talk to Mister Damocles, Chloe had already taken the desired seat and Marinette just hadn’t been in the mood to deal with her. It was surprising when Nino approached and expressed concern about her lateness and distant gaze - as she still hadn’t gotten a response about the locker buddy situation at the time - but they hit off something that she could vaguely consider a friendship and he decided to sit next to her after that.

He leaned over to look at what she was holding, not long enough to read the contents but rather to confirm what it was. “Is that your locker bud?”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah, we were talking about how they were in Ms. Mendeleiev’s class.”

Nino snorted. “Sounds like they got it rough.”

She tried to give him an admonishing look, but mentally acknowledged that she didn’t really have room to talk. “From what they said, they don’t get scolded a lot from her. Maybe they’re just that good of a person? They got to our locker before me too.” She paused, brows furrowing as something occurred to her. Fiddling nervously with the note in her hands, she asked, “D-do you think it makes me look bad?”

“Huh?” Nino tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Why would it?”

“Well, they must be really nice from their notes and they even wake up earlier than I do!” she replied. “What if they think I’m lazy because they always make it to our locker first?!”

“…It’s been a day.”

She frowned, staring critically at the letter as she thought back to her locker buddy. She didn’t know them well enough yet to guess their schedule, but she _did_ know that she herself had a habit of being either late or barely on time. It wasn’t that she was lazy exactly, but she wasn’t a morning person and had a habit of staying up late while working on her various projects; a good thing for those projects, but not so much for _her_ if she wanted to be up at the times that normal people should.

She’d have to work on it, she supposed, and maybe this was the right motivation.

While she was thinking about what to do, Miss Bustier called our to her from the front of the class, currently taking attendance. “Marinette?”

“Ah—” Marinette raised her hand, startled. “Late! I mean— _present!_ ”

* * *

As a Couffaine, Luka was used to chaos and random things happening to him - it just seemed to be something naturally drawn to him and his family - but seeing that first note in his locker had been a genuine surprise. He hadn’t expected to be sharing his locker with someone, but the idea intrigued him and he had no issues with sharing anyway, so he had no reason to object to it.

It’d only been a couple days thus far, but he was having fun. Already, he could tell that his locker buddy was unique; they were almost contradictory in the way they were open but shy, hesitant yet bold. He’d been told that he was a good judge of character and it was obvious that this person wore their heart on their sleeve. He really liked that about them.

Though, it troubled him to hear that they’d been bullied, and possibly would _still_ be bullied. He’d assured them that they could tell him anything they were comfortable with sharing, but the thought did linger in his mind and he couldn’t help worrying. His sister was a victim of bullying herself and their hands were tied on the matter; not only was her bully the daughter of the mayor, but bringing the subject up to his mother would probably land said bully in jail.

Which—alright, Juleka probably wouldn’t have a problem with, but neither sibling was in a hurry to see their mother potentially arrested.

Luka shook his head to rid himself of the thought, then opened his locker to check for any potential notes. To his surprise, there was a plate inside, full of light brown macarons preserved with plastic wrap. Attached was a note with a recognizable flower at the end:

> _I’m a DISASTER! (╥﹏╥)_
> 
> _I wanted to make coffee-infused macarons to help me wake up in the morning and the coffee flavor doesn’t even come through! It perked me up, sure, but what’s a coffee-flavored macaron without the coffee flavor?!_
> 
> _NOTHING, that’s what!_
> 
> _(I didn’t have time this morning so I’ll throw them away later. Sorry, I needed to vent!!)_
> 
> _🌺_

Luka paused, staring at the note for what might’ve been half a minute, then the chuckle escaped his throat and he couldn’t help laughing, not caring at all about who might’ve heard him.

Whoever his locker buddy was, they were _adorable,_ and he was sure of that.

Feeling a light tap to his shoulder, Luka choked back his remaining giggles and turned, seeing his friend Aurore standing behind him and looking thoroughly amused.

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today?” she said. Raising an umbrella she’d been carrying, she gave it a twirl and let it rest on her shoulder. “So, what do you think of this? It’s for my weather girl audition. I’ve _definitely_ got it, right?”

Luka grinned, having to stifle his chuckles again before turning to her. “ _Definitely._ ”

Aurore puffed out her chest, brimming with pride, then grinned back at him with the amused look from before. “So, what were you giggling about?” Her eyes drifted down to the note in his hand, and she asked knowingly, “Clear skies with your locker friend?”

He nodded, then turned back to his locker to pull out a new sticky note to write on. He considered what to write, staring at the plate of macarons, then got an idea and turned to Aurore with a smirk. “Do you want to help me with these?”

“Hm?” She stepped forward, leaning around him to see the plate of macarons. “ _Oh~!_ ”

Luka would get a very flustered note from his locker buddy later, complaining about how he actually ate all of them and then chiding him for _daring_ to call them delicious.


	15. Riding the Struggle Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette ends up meeting someone on a bus ride. The circumstances behind it weren’t exactly things she’d mention to others, but it turns out not being as bad as she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Bus Rides] [Sleep-Deprived Marinette Dupain-Cheng] [Meeting for the First Time]

Marinette was so incredibly sick of working with Gabriel. The man was emotionally dead inside, and that day specifically had made her dead _tired._ She was honestly glad she didn’t have a car, as there would’ve been no way she could’ve driven it all the way home without falling asleep at the steering wheel.

Stumbling her way onto the bus, her vision blurred as she forced herself to walk to the back, given that the rest of the seats were already taken by at least one other person. The back seat held one person as well, but the seat was at least long and there was less risk of her accidentally falling on them if she passed out.

She plopped down onto the seat, letting out a sigh of relief that she was finally about to relax to some degree. Glancing thoughtfully at the empty space next to her, she removed her jacket, not caring how subtle she _wasn’t_ as she laid it down onto the space, just in case she did indeed fall asleep.

_An insurance policy,_ she figured, so she could pass out on it. She was fully aware that having a “plan” for such things so quickly said something about both her _and_ her tendency for exhaustion, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She vaguely heard the doors to the bus close, then felt the steady rhythm of it moving along. She regretted the latter immediately, knowing she _must’ve_ been tired if the steady motions of a _bus_ were soothing her to sleep.

It didn’t take even a minute before she felt her eyes start to flutter shut. She barely managed to catch herself when she started to fall to the left - towards the person next to her - and her eyes shot open on alert.

Er—wait, _was_ that left? Or had it been right? She was sitting straight again at least, but was she not as straight as she thought?

Had it always been so dark?

* * *

The next thing Marinette knew, she was being gently shaken by something. She whined, burying her face into her pillow and clutching it tighter, almost in protest.

If that shaking was an earthquake, she was going to sleep through it as if her life depended on it.

She was shaken again, this time more strongly. Groaning, she finally peeked upwards, seeing a man with black hair and blue highlights smiling sympathetically at her.

While she was wondering how such a handsome man managed to sneak into her bed, he explained, “Sorry. I wanted to let you sleep, but… I didn’t know where you got off, and this is the last stop on the bus.”

She blinked, confused, until the word _bus_ registered with her and she realized that she couldn’t remember having gotten home. She jerked up, looking around in a panic and confirming that she was indeed still on the bus and had fallen asleep on a _stranger,_ despite having taken precautions so she wouldn’t.

Her so-called “pillow” had been his arm, and she’d been gripping the sleeve of his jacket.

Blushing red, she stood, flailing her arms frantically at him. “I am _SO_ sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to! I feel awful—I mean, not _physically_ because you were actually really warm and nice, but _emotionally_ because _I just—_ ” She practically slapped her own face with her hands, muffling a scream into her palms.

“I didn’t mind,” the man assured, standing up as well and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m Luka, by the way, and I know you got a little sleep on the way here—”

She groaned at the reminder.

“—but do you mind if I walk you home?” he asked. “I want to make sure you make it there alright.”

She peeked out at him through her fingers, then lowered her hands. “H-huh? You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but you’ve had a rough day,” he observed, despite her having not told him. “I’m guessing this isn’t your stop either.”

She slumped. “No, it isn’t.” Not wanting to dismiss his kindness though, she gave him a reassuringly look. “But you were letting me sleep and it was probably for the best. If it’s really okay, I… _yes, you can take me home._ ”

He smiled, satisfied with that, then began walking off the bus. She followed after him, though was confused at why he seemed happy to take her after she’d _slept on him._ Did good people really still _exist_ in the world? She was just so used to Gabriel.

They were already off the bus when she noticed that she hadn’t introduced herself in return. “Oh! Uh, I’m Marinette.” She leaned forward so he could see her even as they walked side-by-side. “You’re sure you don’t have anything important to do?”

“Not really,” he replied. “I had a pretty relaxed day.”

“ _Lucky._ ” Marinette pouted. “I _wish_ my day had been like that. I wasn’t even supposed to go into work today, but Gabriel needed me.”

“Gabriel Agreste?”

“Yeah.”

He grinned, still sympathetic but with a little playfulness now. “That explains why you were tired.”

She snorted. “Yeah.” She paused, then blushed in embarrassment and covered her mouth. “Well, _mostly._ ”

He didn’t prod, but she could sense that the offer to be listened to was there.

Rubbing the back of her head, she continued sheepishly, “It was a late night for me yesterday. I really _was_ going to head straight to bed, but then I went to lay down and, of _course—_ ”

“Inspiration hit,” Luka chimed in.

Her jaw went slack, brows raised in surprise at him. “How’d you know?”

“I’m a musician,” he replied, “so I know what it’s like when creativity wants to play its song.”

Marinette gasped. “Oh my gosh, you _understand me._ ”

They shared a laugh, and the conversation naturally transitioned from there into talks about their jobs, as Marinette was already wondering what instrument he played. She learned that he mainly played the guitar, among multiple other instruments, and his last name was Couffaine. He was the leader of a band called Kitty Section, which Marinette felt bad for having never heard about. He assured her it was fine, and that they didn’t do anything big anyway; it was usually small venues or whoever would welcome them. He offered her one of their CDs as a sample and she promised to listen to later, though Luka was already uninterested in talking further about it at that point, wanting to hear about _her_ instead.

She started out vague, not finding herself all that interesting. She was a fashion designer working under Gabriel Agreste, a job that paid well but was stressful when Gabriel himself could make changes and fire people at the drop of a hat. She adored fashion, of course, but everything that came with that was a bit of a downer. When she wasn’t fretting over seams and fabrics, she preferred gaming, or tending to her plants.

Luka admitted to having barely touched games in his life, but Marinette was pleasantly surprised to hear that he had his own plants he liked tending to; apparently, his mother’s houseboat was full of them, both _when_ he was growing up and _after._

Marinette realized partway through their conversation that she hadn’t gotten out much due to the stress of her job, which she figured factored into her having not heard of Luka’s band, however much of a pity it was. Though she didn’t say it out loud, she silently considered hopping around places they might be when she was free, hoping to catch them playing one day and surprise Luka with it.

They were still deep into their conversation when Marinette noticed that they’d reached her house. At first, she thought it was strange that they’d arrived so quickly, but looking at her phone made it clear that they’d been talking for at least thirty minutes. She hadn’t gotten so absorbed in talking to someone in… well, a long time. How’d she even manage to walk that long without collapsing on the street?

Despite the fact that she felt terrible about causing him trouble by falling asleep on him _and_ letting him walk her home, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed that their time together was about to end. Luka seemed equally reluctant somehow, staring at the door she stood in front of but not immediately saying anything, though Marinette imagined that she might’ve been projecting what she wanted onto him.

“Um, thanks for walking me home,” she told him, hands clasped together at her waist.

“You’re welcome.” He gave her a smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She nodded, hesitating for a long moment before turning to the door. She grabbed the doorknob, but didn’t open it, her fingers only twisting the knob back and forth with no end goal. She bit her bottom lip, debating with herself over what she should do.

The terrible feeling increased. He was her bed and companion for the night and he was about to walk all the way back to his house with her having done nothing about it.

She had to do something for him.

Eventually, she turned to him, hoping she didn’t sound too desperate as she called out, “ _Luka._ ”

He seemed briefly caught off-guard, but not weirded out, which she took as a good sign. “Yes?”

“Um…” She sighed. “Would you—come inside for a bit? _Maybe stay the night?_ ”

He gaped. “ _Ah—_ ”

“I mean—!” She stiffened, but didn’t take it back. “At least let me thank you with dessert, you know? And it’s just—you would’ve already been home by now and obviously I don’t know if you planned on going to bed right when you got there, but I figured you could sleep over so you can still get as many hours as you can?”

He blinked at her for a few seconds, then stifled a chuckle, directing his gaze to the ground. He closed his eyes, seeming to genuinely contemplate the offer, then looked back at her with a smile. “That makes it sound like _I’m_ the one troubling _you_ now.”

“You aren’t!” she insisted, almost—no, _actually_ offended. “And if you think so, then _fine,_ trouble me! I _want_ to be troubled!” She opened the door with a huff, gesturing inside with both hands. “See? Trouble is _welcome_ here, that’s what the mat is for!”

He didn’t bother stifling anything this time, letting out a warm laugh that made her heart do a flip. Was he honestly _charmed_ by her lame outbursts?

“ _Alright,_ ” he said once he’d calmed down, straightening and taking the steps necessary to stand next to her. “I’d be happy to, Marinette.”

She beamed at him, not understanding why he’d accepted but not complaining either. Rushing inside, she held onto the door and waited for Luka to enter before shutting it behind them.

Their conversation continued right where it left off, delving into their favorite sweets as Marinette showed him around the kitchen.


	16. Heavy Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka has been, to put it simply, excessively helpful as of late, and Marinette decides to get to the bottom of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [post-”Silencer”] [Guilt] [Nightmares] [Luka Knows]

“ _Luka,_ ” Marinette said, a bit more strictly than before.

Luka shut his mouth, able to tell by her tone that she wasn’t going to accept him brushing things off this time. He averted his gaze from her, staring guiltily at the wall.

She frowned, moving the fabric on her table away before turning her chair to fully face him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you. Really, _I do._ It’s great having you around and you’re so _helpful,_ but…” She hesitated, recognizing that she sounded ungrateful, “You’ve been _too_ helpful, I guess? Please, if there’s something going on, just tell me.”

He said nothing, not sure how to explain it to her without making things difficult.

She continued, “It’s been going on for a long time and it’s worrying me.” Her gaze dropped as she placed a hand to her heart. “Did…did I do something, to make you feel like you have to—?”

He looked back at her immediately, hands raised as he assured, “No, of _course_ not, Marinette! You didn’t do anything! It…” He calmed himself, letting out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair. “It was all me.”

“ _You?_ ” Marinette echoed, somehow looking even more confused than before. “You didn’t do anything.”

He went to reply, but stopped, hands tightening into fists as he had an internal debate with himself. He couldn’t lie to her, but that meant he could only hope that she didn’t have a bad reaction to the truth.

“…I took your voice.”

She blinked. “M-my voice? What…” She paused, seeming to realize something.

He watched as she put the metaphorical puzzle pieces together in her head, her eyes darting around at nothing while she did so. Her expression slowly changed from confusion, to recognition, and eventually settled on shock.

He imagined that his face removed any doubt she had.

“You know?” she asked quietly. She stood, approaching him but not touching him. “ _How?_ You…”

“I’ve been having a nightmare for a while, about a red jellyfish that I stole. It had a voice: _your_ voice. I don’t know how I remembered that from when I was akumatized, but the thought of hurting you…” He winced. “I guess, deep down, maybe I knew who you were. Then, I looked back on some footage of Ladybug and…” He stared at her, face full of regret. “It was the _same._ Marinette, I'm—”

“ _Stop._ ” she cut in. She shook her head, then placed her hands on his shoulders. “We can talk about the identity thing later, but… Luka, listen. That wasn’t _you._ You didn’t know I was Ladybug. Even if you did, you were _akumatized._ You weren’t in control of your actions.”

“But—”

“ _Besides…_ ” Marinette trailed off and glanced off to the side, suddenly sheepish. “You didn’t hurt _Marinette._ In fact, you…” She blushed. “You said really nice things. _Beautiful_ things.”

“I did?” Luka asked, confused. “So… when you were asking me…”

“ _Yeah._ ” She turned redder. “I wanted to see if you meant what you said, s-so… don’t worry about it, okay? You didn’t hurt me, really.”

He frowned, disagreeing with, “You’re Ladybug—”

“You _didn’t know that,_ ” she reminded him again. “If you’d known I was Ladybug, would you have taken my voice?”

“ _Never,_ ” he answered immediately.

Hearing himself, he paused, beginning to understand what she meant. His shoulders eased, and Marinette must’ve noticed since she pulled her hands back.

Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around him instead, causing his heart rate to spike. “So it’s okay, alright? You—” She took a breath. “you’re the only akuma I have fond memories of, Luka. I remembered what you said much more than I remember you taking my voice.”

He couldn’t resist her forever, especially not when she talked like that. He relaxed into the hug, returning it and letting her bury her face into him.

“Alright,” he relented, “I still feel bad about what happened, but I hate worrying you more. As long as _you’re_ okay with it…”

“I am,” she confirmed, “and I don’t mind if you want to hang out with me or want to help me out, but I want you to do it because you _want to,_ not because you feel like you owe me.”

He managed his first playful smile of the day. “If you say it like that, then I’m just going to keep doing what I’ve already been doing.”

“ _Mngh—_ ” She pressed against him, letting out a mixture between a groan and a whine. She sounded like she was trying her hardest to sound stern, and failing, when she scolded, “ _Luka._ ”

He chuckled, happy to listen to her muffled protests while his heart sang in complete and utter _relief_ that she wasn’t upset with him.

She was amazing.


	17. Bake the Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Luka comes back from tour with questions in his head, Juleka decides to solve the problem by sending him to a bakery, where he ends up being more taken by the woman working there than the actual sweets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Baker Marinette Dupain-Cheng] [Rock Star Luka Couffaine] [Meeting for the First Time]

The rock star life wasn’t what Luka thought it’d be, though he supposed he could attribute it to his father constantly talking it up and raising his standards so high that nothing could’ve competed with them. It wasn’t that he hated going on tours or playing for crowds, but there was definitely something wrong that he couldn’t put into words.

Juleka at least seemed sympathetic to his concerns once he’d gotten back from his recent tour, and he chuckled when she threw him some money to solve the problem, insisting that he eat his sorrows away for now and worry about details later. They’d both planned to visit their mother to celebrate his return, so it was only appropriate that he be in higher spirits for it.

Rose was happy to give him the address of what was - according to her - “the best bakery in Paris,” with Juleka non-subtly implying that the money she’d given wasn’t _only_ for him. Thoroughly amused, he complied, leaving to follow the directions to said bakery with his phone.

He felt lucky to have not run into any fans on the way there, hoping that the same would go for the way back. The _last thing_ he wanted was to have his boxes of baked goods accidentally knocked over and ruined.

As he saw the bakery in the distance, he was surprised when he noticed that it had been right next to his and Juleka’s old school. He distinctly remembered there being a bakery, but the name Rose had given him hadn’t rung any bells. He checked his phone out of curiosity and confirmed that the name had been changed since his sister had been in the school, replacing the “Tom & Sabine” with “Dupain-Cheng.”

With that mystery solved, he headed for the front door and opened it up, smiling at the chime of the bell that announced his entrance. There weren’t any other customers around, leaving the lone worker to look over and notice him: a woman, probably around Juleka’s age, dressed a little nicer than he’d expect and seeming to be in the middle of making something.

At the sight of him, she gasped and covered her mouth. “Y-you're— _Luka Couffaine?!_ ”

He flinched, expecting a fangirl moment, but instead, the girl blushed in embarrassment and ran _away_ from him. She went over to a nearby towel, cleaning her hands of flour, then put the towel back and checked over her clothes.

“Sorry,” she whined, glancing up at her hair and fussing over it. “I wasn’t expecting any customers for a while.”

She took a breath, then strutted over to the counter with the fake demeanor of a businesswoman. Placing her hands delicately on the counter’s surface, she flashed him a shy smile, blushing as she asked, “Um… how may I help you?”

Oh, she was _cute._ That was Luka’s entire train of thought, and he hadn’t been able to catch it before his mind had already put it forth for him to both acknowledge _and_ agree with.

“Ah—” He cleared his throat, only now realizing that he’d never asked Juleka what she wanted to eat.

“Do you need a drink?” the woman questioned, looking at him worriedly.

“Oh, no. Thank you though,” he replied with a dismissive wave. “That was—I need to ask my sister what she wants.”

“No problem!” She giggled. “It’s not like you’re holding up the line.”

_Really_ cute.

He tossed her a smile, then fished out his phone and quickly texted Juleka, asking her what he should be ordering. He knew he could’ve called her, but he preferred having something written to hand off instead of having to be the middle man between the Juleka on the phone and the woman in front of him.

Setting his phone down on the counter, where he’d see it once Juleka texted him back, he then turned his gaze back up. “So, you know me?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually a _huge fan,_ and I have all of your albums,” she replied. “Buuuuut, I’ve dealt with a lot of… _over-enthusiastic_ people in my life, so I know what it’s like. I’d _hate_ to make you uncomfortable.” A beat of silence passed, and she playfully added, “Plus, I’m on the clock.”

He chuckled, half-wondering if she _was_ actually different outside of work. “And… is this place yours? I saw that the name changed.”

“Sort of.” She shrugged. “It’s a family business. My papa is Tom Dupain, my maman is Sabine Cheng, and I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

He was glad she’d told him her name, thankful that he didn’t have to non-subtly try to ask for her name now. _Marinette._

She continued, “My parents went away on vacation, so I’m in charge.” Puffing out her chest with pride, she assured, “I’m proving that I can handle everything myself.”

Luka broke out into a huge grin, thoroughly charmed. “I’m sure you can. You definitely have the energy for it.”

He tried to hide his amusement at seeing her try not to blush and turn shy from the compliment. She clearly wore her heart on her sleeve and couldn’t hide anything if her life depended on it.

He’d never heard a song like hers before.

“S-so!” she deflected in a way she probably thought was skillful. “If you don’t mind me asking, how was your tour?”

“Mm?” He was briefly caught off-guard, not expecting to have to talk about himself, though he supposed he should’ve, given that she was apparently a fan of his. “Oh, it was fine.”

She tilted her head, suddenly concerned. “It was _only_ fine?”

Oops. Luka hoped it didn’t show on his face that he knew he’d slipped up. He didn’t doubt - based on the small amount of time he’d known her - that Marinette would’ve listened to his worries, but he didn’t want her to fret over his career when she was a fan of his.

Thinking quickly, he replied, “Well, I’m just glad to be back home. My family’s here.”

She nodded in understanding, not seeming to fully believe him - _perceptive little thing_ \- but accepting anyway. “That makes sense. I’d never be able to leave my parents for that long. I’d miss them too much!”

He chuckled. She seemed like the kind of person to overthink about people like that. “Yeah. My sister practically threw me onto the plane for my first tour.” He grinned. “We still shared a room back then and I think she was desperate for privacy with her girlfriend.”

Marinette covered her mouth, trying to hide a sweet giggle that he discreetly stored away in his memory.

“ _Still,_ ” she began, her gaze softening along with her voice. Luka detected a distinct change in atmosphere as she continued, “I don’t think it’s good if you miss them too much on tour. I think your fans would understand if you kept your them shorter.” She smiled reassuringly. “I know _I_ would, so please don’t overdo it.”

He blinked, staring at her with surprise. It was almost funny to him how he’d hoped not to run into any fans on the way there, yet here he was now, glad to have this _particular fan_ to talk to.

She was sweet. She was cute. She seemed to genuinely care about him, and _he_ was—

His phone chimed with a familiar tone, and Luka figured that it might’ve been for the best that he wasn’t able to finish that thought, already hearing his dad’s rambles about _fans_ and _attachment_ and _keeping them at a stage’s distance._

He picked up his phone, offering Marinette a quick “thank you” for her kind words before opening up his conversation with Juleka.

He blanked at the message she sent.

_Hey, here’s the list (by the way, say “hi” to the baker while you’re there; not suggesting anything but she’s cute and totally your type since you’re both really lame):_

Luka had too many questions all at once. Had his sister sent him there just to try and get him a date? Would she have sent him to the Dupain-Cheng bakery otherwise? Was Rose in on it too?

_Did he really have a type?_

Luka glanced briefly up at Marinette, who seemed wholly oblivious to his internal conflict. Trying not to just stand there stupidly, he copied the list Juleka sent and put it into a memo app on his phone, not wanting to risk Marinette seeing the rest of the message.

He took a quick look around the display cases and added something for himself to the list, then set his phone back on the counter and slid it over to Marinette. She leaned over, taking a look at the list, then gave him an acknowledging smile and went off to fill the order.

He waited to make sure that she had everything on the list memorized, then picked his phone back up and navigated to the camera app, now all too aware of what Juleka’s smug reaction would be when he got back with the absolute _dumbest_ look on his face.

“Luka?” Marinette called after an indistinguishable amount of time. He met her gaze and she added hurriedly, “I-I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything, but here’s your order.”

She slid the boxes across the counter, having put them in a bag for easy carrying. He placed her payment on the counter and smiled at her, assuring, “You didn’t interrupt anything. Thank you.”

He didn’t notice how warm his voice had sounded until after the words were already out, and by then it was already too late to change it. Slipping his hand through the bag’s handles, he lifted it up and kept his phone held in his other hand.

“Oh!” Marinette gasped. “Let me get the door for you!”

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s okay! Your hands are full!”

He wouldn’t define them as “full,” but she was already rushing to make to the door before he did. He didn’t miss how she opened it like a boyfriend would for their girlfriend, even adding a bow just for flair.

The bell chiming seemed to be emphasizing her voice rather than his exit.

“Please come again!” she recited like it was something she told everyone. She paused, then blushed and stood straight, any professionalism gone as she stammered, “I-I’m sorry, is that weird to say since I’m your fan? I didn’t mean to, but—well, _do_ come back, but only if you want! So—”

“I do,” he cut in, much to her apparent surprise. He maintained eye contact on the way out, adding fondly, “See you later, Marinette?”

“A-ah… _see you!_ ”

He immediately had to look away to prevent her from seeing the way he grinned at the squeak in her voice. He heard the bakery door close behind him and held his phone back up to his face. Glad that there weren’t many people in the immediate area, he spent probably five minutes trying to make faces at his camera.

Eventually, he had to give up hope that Juleka wouldn’t tease him, because the smile wouldn’t leave his face no matter how hard he tried.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to visit the bakery tomorrow though, of course.


	18. Reading Her Like Open Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While shopping with Ivan and Mylene’s child, Luka comes across a particular children’s book that reminds him of himself (as Viperion) and Ladybug. His curiosity is piqued and he wants to know more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Children’s Books] [Author Marinette Dupain-Cheng] [Luka Knows]

“See anything you like?” Luka asked after he was sure that they’d already looked over at least half of the children’s books.

Ivan and Mylene’s kid looked up at him, then around to the books. They placed their hands to their face, leaning back and letting out a long, drawn-out hum, then finally answered, “Mmm, not yet.”

They were always quiet like that, so when they _did_ say something, it was because they’d made sure to think about it. In that particular case, they knew they were being spoiled with whatever books they wanted, but they didn’t want to just grab everything either, clearly focusing on what they “needed” rather than just books that looked neat.

Luka shrugged with a smile. “Alright. We’ll keep looking.”

He scanned the shelves as he walked, letting the child run ahead so long as they stayed within his sight. Ivan and Mylene had loosely suggested that he be on the lookout for any books about body positivity and of course he agreed with them. Thankfully, after spending most of his life on a houseboat that demanded one be an expert at finding things in an instant or risk losing them forever, Luka was able to catch a few good books that fit Ivan and Mylene’s description just by the cover.

He’d skimmed them too, just in case.

As his gaze went to follow the kid running past him to restart their quest for perfect books, he was stopped by a brief glimpse of teal, red, and black from a part of the aisle that he hadn’t gone to yet. His eyes darted over to it, squinting at the familiarity of the shades, then looked back at the kid once more.

Confirming that they were okay, Luka approached the book that had drawn his attention, having to crouch down to see it properly since it was on the bottom shelf. He’d only taken it in for a split second before he was hit by a wave of pleasant memories and nostalgia.

_The Snake and The Ladybug_ was the book’s title, and the cover featured a teal naga boy across from a ladybug-themed girl.

Luka took a breath at the obvious similarities to his role as Viperion from back in the day, as well as Marinette’s role as Ladybug. She’d never come out about her identity, but it didn’t take him long to figure out, and the book was giving him all sorts of mushy feelings just by its art alone.

He reached out, gently grasping the book without taking it off the shelf. Running his thumb along the cover, he was surprised to realize that it actually had a texture to it that shifted based on where he was stroking, and he couldn’t deny that it seemed like Marinette’s handiwork.

The naga boy didn’t have highlights, but his hair still had a noticeable feature, with the front of it being long enough to cover up the eyes. The boy was lounging against a tree, which went along with the forest setting that took up one side of the book, and his arm was outstretched towards the remaining side, seemingly catching dandelion puffs that were being blown in his direction. Said dandelion puffs were being sent his way by the ladybug girl, who had the dandelion in hand and her eyes closed. She was featured in a more castle-esque place, sitting on the edge of a windowsill, and both she and the naga boy were clearly enjoying themselves.

“Are you gon’ buy that?”

Luka was jerked out of his trance by Ivan and Mylene’s kid, who had apparently snuck up on him while he was taking in the cover. He looked over at them, surprised that they’d ask a direct question over something that didn’t concern them.

He glanced back at the book thoughtfully, considering the question anyway, then sighed with a sad smile.

There was no way. Marinette wasn’t an author; she was a fashion designer, living her crazy life somewhere, and they hadn’t seen each other for a long time. She’d have no reason to write a children’s book.

It was just a coincidence.

“No,” he finally answered, pulling his hand away from the book, “It just made me think of some happy memories.”

They pursed their lips, brows furrowing as they tilted their head in confusion. “B'shouldn’t y'get it then? Mommy keeps some o'those too.”

They said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, and Luka supposed that it was. He was just being a dumb adult by denying it, uselessly pining as a result and fantasizing about Marinette leaving him some sort of hidden message in a book. Still, the kid was right; the book made him happy and that should’ve been enough.

There didn’t _need_ to be a deeper meaning, even if it wouldn’t stop him from thinking about one.

Reaching out again, Luka plucked the book off the shelf, keeping it separate from the books held in his other arm.

“You’re right. Maybe I will.”

* * *

After having dropped off Ivan and Mylene’s kid, along with all the books but the one, Luka headed home and plopped down sideways on his recliner, holding up his chosen book to examine it from all angles. He was tempted to read the summary on the back, but resisted, opting to turn back to the front to look at the author’s name.

In hindsight, he should’ve done that from the beginning.

His face fell at the name _Belle Nescire,_ a far cry from _Marinette Dupain-Cheng._ Pen names were a thing, certainly, and his inner Viperion - who plotted out Ladybug’s Lucky Charm alongside her at times - felt suspicious, but it also didn’t sound very _Marinette_ at all.

Mentally shrugging any further thoughts away, he sat up just enough to properly read the book, opening it up to finally take a look at its contents.

The story began with the ladybug girl, saddened and stressed by her daily life. She had friends of all kinds, but sought something deeper than mere companionship: a _connection_ with someone. She didn’t know exactly what to look for, only able to hope that she’d know when she found it.

One day, against the advice of her friends, she headed into the forest to pick flowers. She’d been repeatedly warned about the snakes who lived there, suggestions tossed around to chat with the cats on the rooftops instead, but she went to the forest anyway. It was there where she met the snake boy who, yes, had startled her at first with his sudden appearance, but he immediately apologized and merely warned her about the flower she had almost picked, which would’ve laid a curse on her had she’d picked it.

Snakes, as she’d been told anyway, lived for disorder and were terrifying for their looks alone, what with their fangs, scales, and the like. The ladybug girl, however, wasn’t afraid of the snake boy, rather enjoying his company and finding herself wanting to come back and visit him. Eventually, she ended up doing just that, and they became fast friends, meeting frequently to make flower crowns and talk about their lives.

Without noticing at first, the ladybug girl had found her connection, the snake boy becoming a source of calm where she could escape from the emotions that always weighed her down. The moral of the story was about seeking out and cherishing the people who bring out the best in oneself, due to how rare they are to find.

Luka breathed up when he realized that was the end of the book, closing it and turning it over to read the summary as if that would give him more content to read.

The coincidences were stacking now. He _had_ startled her when they first met, and there _had_ been an apology from him even if it’d been for his teasing of her instead. There was also the undeniable mention of cats, though he wasn’t sure if things like the cursed flower could’ve been some sort of metaphor he was missing.

As the thought of the author being Marinette re-entered his head, he began to blush. He’d known that he was her support in many ways - a role he’d always taken pride in - but to be called her _connection,_ as if he were special and stood out above everyone else? _That_ would be news to him.

Reminding himself yet again that it wasn’t a guarantee, he sat up and set the book down on the table, mentally scolding himself for over-analyzing when he’d said he’d get the book for the reminder of happy memories instead. Nonetheless, he was picking up his phone not even ten seconds later, searching up the book’s title and author to see if he got any results. It turned out that the book he had was the first in a series of books, featuring the same two characters and continuing their story.

Well, he knew how one of his afternoons were going to be spent in the near future.


	19. Cup Cometh Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka finds an exhausted Marinette one day and decides to offer her his coffee. He expects not to see her again and ends up being very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Coffee Shop] [Sleep-Deprived Marinette Dupain-Cheng] [Meeting For the First Time]

Luka was taking his usual route home, his coffee in hand and marked with his name, as it always was. All employees got one for free at the end of the day, and while it felt a little too generous for him to accept at first, he got used to the insistence, just glad to have a boss who wanted their workers to be happy.

That said, he hadn’t opened it yet, planning on doing so when he got home in order to be perked up and ready to work on his music. The coffee he made without following a menu had a certain bite to it that somehow made the wake-up call even stronger, earning him the nickname “Viperion” from all the people he worked with. He didn’t complain, obviously; it sounded cool.

As he walked down the wide sidewalk, he glanced up and noticed something that made him pause: a woman, slumped over a table and looking ready to either sleep or pass into the afterlife. He couldn’t get a good look at her face, since she was face-down on the table and her black hair was making any of her features unseeable, but he saw the professional outfit she wore and the sketchbook resting under her hand, implying that she was overworked.

Luka realized belatedly that she didn’t have a writing utensil in hand, his eyes drifting down to scan the circular table she was laying on. Indeed, there it was, on the opposite side of the table and continuing to roll along due to the occasional gust of wind. He rushed forward as it neared the edge, saving it from a sad fate on the sidewalk. He couldn’t tell how fragile it was, but it seemed expensive, so he was glad to have come by when he did.

Slipping the pen between the open pages in the book, Luka’s next priority was to duck down and check under the table for the woman’s belongings. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that her purse was safely between her legs, unstolen and with the strap hanging around her shoulder. From the looks of how she was hunched over it with her legs pressed into the sides, he imagined that she might stir awake if someone attempted to take it or steal what was inside, but he wasn’t going to take that chance.

He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle shake, even though he felt bad for doing so. The woman made an assortment of whines and groans at the motion, shifting away from him and curling in on herself. She even pulled her sketchbook in with her as if it were a pillow, clearly not willing to depart from whatever half-asleep state she was in. He couldn’t help feeling bad for her; she was so obviously exhausted and he got the impression that this was a recurring thing.

While debating on what to do, he remembered the coffee in his hand, still hot and definitely a burst of caffeine for anyone who drank it. There was no question as to whether or not he should offer it to her, he just _did,_ holding the cup out and gingerly pressing the bottom of it against the back of her hand while ensuring that the name side was facing away from her. She shifted again, but had a better reaction to the heat, maybe recognizing what it meant. She turned her head up, her hair parting just enough for him to see one of her eyes as it took in the cup in his hand.

His heart skipped a beat, having not expected to see such a bright blue color, but he remained still and waited for her reaction.

Eventually, the hand not touched by the cup came up to grab it, the other soon moving out from under the cup to do the same. She tilted her head back down at the table, then gave him a muffled, “ _thanks,_ ” probably thinking that he was someone serving her a drink she ordered.

He smiled, her voice reminding him of the pleasant chime of a bell. He was content to accept whoever she thought he was so long as she accepted the drink, releasing it so he could walk away from her. Once he was a fair distance away, he looked back to see that she was slowly pushing herself up so she could drink the coffee he’d given her. Satisfied and feeling that it was safe to go, he rounded the next corner to continue his way home.

* * *

The next day at work was particularly slow, with Luka having difficulty keeping himself occupied. He’d already wiped down everything in the shop that he could think of without the customers starting to suspect that he had a cleaning obsession, so he gave into his personal wants and pulled out a notepad he kept on him. It wasn’t much, but he used it to jot down little melodies that came into his head, figuring that he might be able to turn them into something special with a little bit of time and effort.

He’d only been able to sketch some quick staff lines when the front door opened, rapid footsteps following as someone apparently barreled through. He glanced up at him, only needing to look for a moment before he recognized them as the woman he’d helped yesterday, though she was sporting casual wear instead of her business attire. A few of the customers at the tables turned to eye her, their faces a mixture of curious and confused, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Is—” The woman panted, waiting to catch her breath before she stood straight, raising her right hand to reveal the coffee cup she’d been given yesterday. “ _Is there a Luka here?_ ”

Luka gaped, then raised the notepad to his mouth to hide the fact that he was chuckling. He’d honestly thought that something terrible had happened to her with the panic she was in, but _this?_

The woman looked around frantically, clearly hoping to get a positive response. The customers who’d focused on her earlier had glanced in Luka’s direction at the mention of his name, causing her to follow their gaze to him. Luka himself lowered his notepad enough to offer her a smile, his free hand going up to greet her. She ran up to him, taking note of the signature on his name tag and then comparing it to the one on the cup.

“Oh— _thank goodness,_ ” she sighed. “I found you.” Setting the cup down, she threw herself face-down onto the counter. Luka felt glad that he’d just cleaned there.

Curious, he asked, “Why were you looking for me?”

“I am _so_ sorry,” she whined in response. Raising her head just enough to look up at him, she continued, “I was so _tired_ and I wasn’t even thinking, and then I drank all of your coffee!”

He blinked, half-wondering if maybe she’d been so tired then that she thought that she’d stolen it. Offering her a smile, he placed his hands on the counter and lowered himself until he was level with her, assuring, “I gave it to you, it’s okay. We get them for free. Besides, you looked exhausted and you _definitely_ needed it more than I did.”

“ _Still!_ ” she argued, pushing herself back up with a pout.

The speed of her response told him that she actually knew already that she didn’t steal it, yet was still _that_ distraught over the matter of drinking his coffee anyway. He thought it was cute.

She threw her arms out. “And I’d never been to this place before and had to find directions on my phone and I was so _worried_ that I might’ve picked the wrong one and I wouldn’t know since I figured you were just a customer so my chances of finding you again were _already_ bad and even if you were a regular I wouldn’t even know what you _looked like—_ ” She stopped herself, letting out a sigh as she seemed to realize that she was getting side-tracked.

Luka watched, a mixture between amused and _maybe a little charmed_ as the woman pulled out her purse and began to dig through it. Though he couldn’t make out much, he could tell that it was organized, leading to her pulling out what she’d been looked for relatively quickly.

With a sudden serious look on her face, she firmly placed the money she’d grabbed down on the counter. “Anyway, at _least_ let me pay you back! I don’t care if you got it for free or not!”

Luka looked at her, then the money, then back at her, reminding himself that she _really_ went through so much trouble over a cup of coffee and it was absolutely _adorable._ He wasn’t sure what his face looked like, but he knew it wasn’t his normal “customer smile.”

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, once he’d put his thoughts together.

“W-what?” The serious expression vanished, replaced by surprise. “Um—” She tilted her head, but answered him anyway despite not knowing why he was asking. “Marinette.”

_Marinette._

Grinning at the melody taking place in his head, he turned away from her, abandoning the money she’d set down and picking up a cup to start writing on. “So, what kind of coffee do you want for that money?”

“ _H-hey!_ ”


	20. Marry Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jagged has called Marinette for an abundance of strange things over the time she’s known him. This one, though, is probably the strangest of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Fake Marriage] [Jagged Stone is Luka Couffaine’s Father] [Hereditary Song Sensing] [Meeting For the First Time]

“ _Jagged!_ ” Marinette burst into the hotel room, panting from the run it took to get there. “I got your emergency, what’s the text?!”

The realization that she’d scrambled her words never came, as she stopped thinking upon seeing the non-emergency-looking situation in front of her. While Jagged seemed to have just stopped pacing around the room to look at her, Penny was sitting in her seat and was only startled by the sudden entrance. There was a third person she didn’t recognize, though he didn’t seem to be in any mood that would warrant an “emergency.”

Penny, recovering from the brief surprise, sighed and faced Jagged with a stern look. “Jagged, please don’t drag our designer into this—”

“But she’s _perfect!_ ” Jagged insisted. With both hands, he gestured wildly to Marinette, who blushed at the extra attention. “She’s sworn off men after that model boy and she’s got rock n’ roll muscle in case anything happens!”

Marinette eased her posture from earlier, rubbing an arm self-consciously and wondering what warranted bringing her past relationship up in the first place. Knowing she wouldn’t get an answer from Jagged otherwise, she asked, “Um, what’s going on?”

Jagged turned to her, grinning at her curiosity, then rushed over to the mystery man sitting on the couch. He grabbed the man’s arm, forcing him up, then gestured to him with his other hand. “This is my son, Luka!”

“Lu—” Marinette blanked. “—wait, you have a _son?!_ ”

He nodded. “And I need _you_ to act like his wife!”

“ACT LIKE HIS _WHAT?!_ ”

Jagged eagerly went to respond, only to be cut off as Penny cleared her throat, getting up from her seat to stand next to Jagged.

“Marinette, Luka is a lot more…” She paused, eyeing the two men and squinting in thought as she tried to find the right word. “… _lowkey,_ than his father. That’s why no one’s ever heard of him.”

Marinette was more surprised that Jagged could keep a secret for that long.

Jagged chimed in, grabbing Luka’s shoulder and pulling him in. “And when he goes out, women and men everywhere go for him like he’s one of my albums! I mean—” He gave an exaggerated gesture in Luka’s direction. “—just _look_ at him.”

Marinette gave Luka a once-over, then nodded her head in understanding. “Yeah, I see what you mean.” She realized what she’d admitted a second later and blushed, turning back to Penny in hopes that she could distract from it. “A-and I’m supposed to be… his wife?”

“Luka isn’t interested in dating anyone, and he finds it troublesome to be hounded by so many people,” she explained. “He doesn’t like being surrounded like Jagged does, but he still wants to make his mark on the music world, meaning we have to start introducing him at events. Jagged thought it’d be a _great idea—_ ” She side-eyed Jagged, who looked entirely oblivious to the stare. “—for you to pretend to be Luka’s wife so people will think that he’s taken and back off.”

“ _Dad,_ ” Luka suddenly spoke, shrugging Jagged off and shooting him a look. His voice was a lot softer than Marinette would’ve expected for someone who was Jagged’s son, but that didn’t make it bad, and it was actually impressive how he managed to draw everyone’s attention despite it.

He continued, “I don’t want to put pressure on anyone to have to be my wife. I told you, I’ll just have to get used to the crowds.”

Jagged pouted in protest, retorting, “But your song sensing is so much more sensitive than mine.”

“I'm—” Luka hesitated, seeming to acknowledge what Jagged was saying. Nevertheless, he continued, “I’m working on it.”

Jagged nearly rolled his eyes, the two quickly getting into a hushed argument over the subject. Marinette couldn’t make much out - though Jagged had an infinitely louder whisper compared to Luka - but was able to discern that Luka had apparently been “working on it” for quite a while with little results to show for. Penny walked closer to join, giving an apologetic glance Marinette’s way as if to say _“sorry, they always get like this.”_ Marinette believed it, as the two seemed to be opposites of each other, at least in terms of their presence.

It was obvious that Jagged had called her without telling Penny or Luka, but it was even more obvious _why._ The whole idea sounded _crazy,_ and Jagged didn’t seem to have a plan outside of, “pretend to be Luka’s wife.” Marinette understood the basics of what that would entail, but would she just have to be his fake wife forever? _Could_ she be his fake wife forever? She _had_ always dreamed of getting married one day, but she’d long since put those aside and tried to be content with staying single, though she mentally acknowledged that it _was_ pretend marriage and thus didn’t carry everything she’d let go of.

And then there was Luka. She didn’t know him, but she could see his discomfort for the whole situation; that feeling of wanting to make things easier but not having the right person to rely on for it. It was all too familiar to her and brought memories of her past struggles.

“…I’ll do it,” she said resolutely.

Jagged, Luka, and Penny collectively glanced at her, then to each other, as if to confirm that they’d all heard the same thing. When they looked back at her, they all let out tonal variations of, “ _Really?_ ”

Penny was gaping. Luka was confused. Jagged was _beaming._

Luka tried to speak up, but Jagged beat him to it, bounding forward and throwing his arms out. “That’s great! I _knew_ you’d be the right choice!” He turned to Penny, practically _radiating_ pride. “See? What’d I tell you? Now come on, we need to get these two set up!”

Penny was too stunned to reply, tossing Marinette a fleeting glance as Jagged grabbed her hand and took her away. Luka managed to recover from the shock a little quicker, blinking a few times before finally approaching Marinette himself.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded, offering him a sympathetic expression and appreciating his concern. “I know what it’s like to be harassed by people who don’t care about your feelings. If it’ll help you, I’ll do it.” Shrugging casually, she added, “Besides, it’s just like Jagged said, I’ve sworn off dating so it’s not a problem for me.”

He tilted his head, still seeming unsure, but ultimately smiled at her. “Thank you. I’ll be in your care then.”

She smiled back at him, extending a hand out for a handshake. “Likewise.”

He gladly took her hand in his, equal efforts given on both of their parts to give the best handshake they could. Marinette’s first impression was that he was really sweet, and there was something about his eyes that she inherently liked; they were warm and kind, meeting hers without any pressure for her to keep staring back at them.

She did anyway, and if they lingered a little longer than expected in their handshake, neither noticed.


	21. Naga Saga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in the middle of the night, Luka realizes that Marinette is also awake and notices that she’s acting suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Naga Luka Couffaine] [Dimensional Travel] [Confession] [Kiss]

As a naga, Luka had keen senses, particularly when it came to his home. He was so used to the particular sounds, sights, and scents around the house that it was easy to tell when something was off.

It wasn’t the sound of careful footsteps that woke him up, as he knew they were Marinette’s, but rather the song that went with it. Whatever she was feeling, it was wrong, reminiscent of how he remembered her sounding when she was first thrust into his world.

Uncurling and pushing himself up off his stomach, he rose and went across the room, careful not to wake Juleka all the while. The divider in the room separated him and Juleka from Marinette’s side of the room, giving her the privacy that humans apparently needed. Luka didn’t bother peeking in, knowing that she wouldn’t be there.

He went out to the main room, looking past the assorted instruments and furniture to see Marinette in the kitchen area. Though her back was facing him, the sound of a pencil to paper seemed to indicate that she was writing something on the counter.

He considered what he should do, but opted to simply approach as he realized that it was a bit rude to be watching her without saying anything. “Marinette?”

She jolted, then turned around to face him. “L-luka!” Her hand reached back, slamming down on whatever paper she’d been writing on. “W-what are you doing up?”

He refrained from pointing out that he could ask her the same thing. “I was worried about you. You used to wake up like this, but it was only for a little while after you’d come here.”

“O-oh? Yeah, w-well…” She turned, presumably staring down at the paper from earlier. “It’s… nothing you need to worry about. I woke myself up, that’s all.”

He paused, squinting a bit as he tried to place what might’ve been wrong. He didn’t want to push her, but he had a bad feeling about going back to bed without sorting it out.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted. “I worry about the people I care about.”

She flinched, her shoulders suddenly tense, though not in the usual cute flustered way that he liked to see so much. He slithered closer, but gave her enough space that he knew she’d be comfortable with.

She was silent at first, then let out a slow, shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“I’m leaving, even though I don’t really want to.”

If he wasn’t fully alert before, he was now. “Y-you— _what?_ You’re _leaving?_ ”

She didn’t reply, keeping her back faced to him. He moved impulsively, possibly invading her personal bubble as he went to her side and leaned against the counter to look at her.

“You don’t have to go _anywhere_ if you don’t want to, Marinette,” he said, a rare desperation in his voice. He let his other hand fall upon hers, adding, “so please don’t. It’s dangerous out there for you, we don’t know how people could react—”

“ _That’s why,_ ” she cut in softly.

He blinked, trying to figure out what that meant on his own before giving up and asking outright, “What do you mean?”

“I’m _weird._ I’m not supposed to be here. This world is full of half-human creatures and I’m just… _human._ ”

She fumbled with the paper that he could now see. It was already crinkled, her hands constantly mixed between messing it up further and smoothing it out. It was indeed a farewell letter, and his heart dropped at the idea that, had he not woken up, she would’ve left without a proper good-bye.

He looked back at her. “None of us mind that you’re human,” he reminded her. “Mom thinks it’s great, Jule thinks you’re cool…” He paused, afraid of pushing her away by saying too much. Leaning further onto the counter, he lowered himself to try and seem as small as possible. Honesty felt like the only way forward, so he continued, “and I’ve never met a girl as unique and incredible as you.”

Her gaze darted over at him, clearly struck by his words. Carefully, he raised his hand from hers and let it hover near her cheek, not wanting to touch it without her permission. He’d expected her to either pull away or nod, but instead, she leaned into the touch all on her own.

He forced himself to ignore the skip in his heart so he could focus on the issue at hand. “Even when you’re not able to go out without covering up or putting on a disguise, you still find ways to help. Your skills at design are out of this world—” He smiled at the snort she let out from the playful joke. “—and even if you _do_ mess up, you always find a way to turn it around.” Keeping his voice firm, but low, he added, “ _Anyone_ would be lucky to have you, Marinette, and there aren’t enough notes in the world for me to tell you how happy I am that you ended up _here_ of all places.”

She shuddered against his hand, her cheeks turning warm under his touch. She exhaled, turning her face into his palm in some futile attempt to hide, her own hand pressing against the back of his to keep it there (not that he’d had any intention of moving it).

Her eyes shimmered. She made a choked noise as she teared up. He was tempted to wipe her tears away, but feared that it was perhaps too intimate given that his hand was already on her cheek.

Then, she spoke, voice pained as she tearfully whispered, “ _I love you._ ”

This time, he couldn’t so easily ignore the skip in his heart.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. This world isn’t even mine, but I’ve never felt so much like I _belonged_ somewhere than when I’m with you. I care about you too, and that’s why—t-that’s why I have to go. I thought about it for a long time and—it’d just cause trouble for you. You’re so sweet and selfless, so I knew you wouldn’t have it in you to let me leave when it’s so dangerous for me, but then that just means awkwardly living in a house forever with a girl you know has a crush on you. A-and even if you liked me back, then you’d have to constantly be careful and keep me a secret forever and I can’t ask you to—”

“ _I would._ ”

She stopped, jarred out of her ramble. “W-what?”

Now unafraid, he rose up to be eye level with her, his other hand sliding onto her remaining cheek. “I would keep you a secret forever, _happily._ ” Smiling fondly, he asked, “Isn’t that what we’re already doing anyway?”

“Y-yes?” she replied, though what he was implying seemed to still be catching up with her. “B-but—a relationship—”

“Of course I’d sing it to the world if I could,” he cut in. “If I knew you’d stay safe, I’d tell everyone how happy I am that the girl I love loves me back, but I don’t need to.”

Wiping away the streak of tears that had stopped just a little while ago, he added softly, “Because the only ones that need to know are _right here:_ me and you. The world is my stage, but playing for _them_ will never be as important to me as playing for _you._ ”

She choked again, relief washing over her face as the tears returned. Luka understood now why she’d asked so long ago about how nagas interact when they’re a couple, and why she’d looked so despondent when he’d mentioned the linking and curling of tails.

He silently thanked his past self, however, because he’d also asked her in return how human couples interact.

He kissed her thusly, Marinette squeaking at first before wrapping her arms around his neck. It definitely wasn’t perfect on his part - he’d had no prior reference - but as she shifted and kissed his back, something clicked and he was able to correct himself.

Simultaneously, he moved and curled the tip of his tail to wrap around one of her legs. She shivered, letting out a surprised gasp before quickly going back in to kiss him again.

Did it feel the same as having a naga as a romantic partner? Was it as “natural” as having a naga tail to curl around instead?

No, absolutely not, and that was just one of the reasons why he loved it.


	22. Friend to Commend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Marinette talk while on patrol, and Adrien is both shocked and confused at the fact that Marinette isn’t dating despite being in love with Luka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adulthood] [Adrien and Marinette Are Friends] [Bonus Adrimi] [Relationship Meddling]

“And yeah,” Chat finished, laying back on the rooftops with a sigh, “I don’t think Kagami’s mad at me, but she won’t look me in the eye either.”

Ladybug gave him a smile that was both amused and sympathetic. “You probably overwhelmed her.”

He gave her a questioning look, encouraging her to go on. Ladybug didn’t mind, of course; it was practically routine for them to sit down and vent to each other and help wherever they could. Plus, with no villain like Hawk Moth around, they could talk freely about their identities.

She clarified, “I know you’ve been dating for years, but you’re… _a lot_ sometimes. I’m sure Kagami likes that sort of thing or she wouldn’t be dating you, but remember, you had your mom to get you used to hugs. Kagami never had that.”

“Oh,” Chat uttered. He frowned, running his claws through his hair and ruffling it. “So I did it again.”

“I don’t think going overboard is a bad thing,” she offered gently. “But also, the flowers, the date, and then all that affection when you two got home?”

Chat tilted his head at her. “I was just excited to celebrate the anniversary of when we got together.”

Ladybug blinked, pointing out, “It’s… _not_ your anniversary?”

“That’s what I mean!” He stretched his limbs out for emphasis. “I couldn’t wait! I figured maybe we could have a—” He paused, and she could _see_ the moment it registered with him why Kagami was thrown off. He bit his bottom lip, then continued sheepishly, “…a _pre-_ anniversary?”

Ladybug snorted behind her hand, having to try hard not to do a full-blown laugh. Chat sat up, pouting at her.

“H-hey! Don’t laugh at my pain!”

“No, no!” she replied, managing to stifle her giggles enough to speak. “It makes total sense now.”

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

She cleared her throat, calming down fully, then explained, “Kagami’s competitive. She definitely knew you were doing all _that_ for a reason and she wasn’t prepared, so she couldn’t compete with it.”

“Ah—” He glanced upwards, acknowledging that. “Yeah, that—mm.” He sighed as he slumped forward. “You’re right.”

“Just talk to her. You’ll work it out,” she assured. Then, more teasingly, she added, “Just don’t be surprised when she lays it on even thicker than you did.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he retorted with a huge grin on his face. He glanced out over the city, his grin turning into a calmer smile as if he were reminiscing. “Thanks. You’re always good with this.”

“It’s not a big deal, ” she argued, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m happy to help.”

“No, I mean it,” he insisted. “You’re _really_ good at this. I’m surprised you aren’t dating already.” He leaned in close, continuing, “You always seem really happy for me and Kagami. Don’t you want that yourself?”

The question caught her off guard. She looked away from him, recoiling slightly from the closeness. He must’ve noticed too, as he pulled back almost immediately, clearly remembering their talk about “boundaries.”

“Sorry. I just—” He rubbed an arm, seeming to reconsider his words but being unable to hold back all of his curiosity. “…don’t you like someone at least?”

She paused, though certainly not because she had to think about who she liked. She’d already thought about it a _lot_ and simply hadn’t done anything about it. She knew Chat meant well and she didn’t like there being secrets between them, but he could also be a bit… _forward,_ when it came to such things.

“If I tell you,” she began, noting Chat already breaking out into a curious smile, “you have to promise not to drop in on them and declare yourself as the Messenger of Love who simply _must know_ why your two favorite sweethearts haven’t gotten together yet.”

He nodded in eager agreement, not even trying to deny that he’d do something like that.

She hesitated, but knew that she’d been wanting to get her crush off her chest for a while now anyway. Finally relenting, her expression grew fond as she confessed, “I like Luka.”

Suddenly, Chat straightened, the smile vanishing from his face. “Wait, Luka? _Luka Couffaine?_ ” he asked, his mouth hung open in a slight gape. “Really?”

“ _What?_ ” She pouted, offended at the implication. “Luka’s a great guy!”

“I know!” he replied, hands shooting up defensively. “Just—” He shrugged. “—why aren’t you together then?”

She blinked. “What do you mean? He doesn’t like me that way.”

Chat’s gape grew wider. Raising a brow, he asked, “Are—are you sure?”

She couldn’t fathom why he seemed so baffled by the statement. “Positive.”

He shook his head, like he was clearing himself of thoughts, but continued to press the issue anyway. “Bugabud, have you _seen_ him? He’s _always_ looking your way. He smiles at you all the time like you’d just made his _year._ He’s written a ton of songs for you— _about_ you—”

“Not a _ton,_ ” she cut in, though she had to pause as she put together the actual number. “It’s only like, um…” She averted her gaze, scratching her cheek sheepishly. “m-maybe thirty or so—?”

“ _Thirty,_ ” Chat stressed, emphasizing how large of a number that really was. He gestured wildly at the rooftop below them, exclaiming, “He worships the ground you walk on!”

“That’s some you-level exaggeration you’ve got going on,” she chided. “He loved me, _once,_ but—” She looked down, recalling her moment with Luka at the TV station, mixed emotions swirling in her chest. “…it was a long time ago, and we were young.”

“…You’re serious,” he uttered in disbelief.

“It’s true.”

When he didn’t respond, she glanced up at him to see him staring back at her with a stern expression, his brows furrowed and his hands pressed against each other in front of his mouth. She honestly didn’t understand where all the shock came from, though she supposed that part of it was Chat being the romantic that he was. He’d become even more passionate about love ever since he started dating Kagami, seeking everyone’s happiness when he could even if it failed.

After a few more seconds, Chat took a breath, his eyes unmoving from hers. Lowering his hands, he said curtly, “ _No._ ”

“Wha? No _what?_ ”

“I’m helping you,” he insisted, “If you and Luka aren’t together by next week, I’m not worth my miraculous.”

“ _Chat._ ” Ladybug shook her head. “You _just_ promised—”

“Not like that,” he assured. Gesturing outwards, he continued, “You two are _crazy_ for each other, and I’m _telling you,_ Luka’s still in love with you. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure.”

_She,_ however, _wasn’t_ sure, giving him a skeptical look along with a hard, “ _Hm._ ”

“Just… let me _try,_ okay?” He leaned in, though was careful not to lean as much as he had before, when he’d made her uncomfortable. “You’ve been helping me with Kagami before we even got together—” The _even when you liked me_ went wisely unsaid, but it was implied. “—and now I’m finally getting a chance to return the favor. I want you to have the happiness _you_ gave _me._ ”

He was officially pleading with her, and she wasn’t sure whether she regretted telling him about her crush or not. She’d daydreamed on occasion of what it’d be like to actually be together with Luka, or if she’d actually accepted his confession all that time ago, but they were just that: daydreams. She knew Chat’s heart was in the right place, but that didn’t automatically make it a good idea to go along with it.

Nevertheless, he was looking at her like he’d be heartbroken if she denied him. Sighing, she gave in to the request, however hesitantly. “Alright. I trust you.” At his sunshine-level smile, she lifted a finger to insist, “ _But,_ I’m telling you, he doesn’t feel that way anymore.”

He shrugged, smiling casually at her. “If you say so~”

“You don’t believe me,” she observed with a squint.

“Not necessarily.” He tapped his chin, looking thoughtfully off to the side with a hint of concern. “I just can’t believe that my denseness from way back then was actually contagious.”

“Wha— _hey!_ ”


	23. Equal to the Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka is lamenting how people view him, given his supposed “bad boy” appearance, when he gets a surprise visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Not-So-Secret Admirer] [Mutually Misunderstood] [Meeting For the First Time]

Luka had never thought of himself as particularly attractive, though it wasn’t like he thought he was _un_ attractive either. He just didn’t have any opinion on his looks overall. He knew his mom had a “unique” style and that his sister was more specifically “pretty” (a fact which he was sure to tell her whenever she doubted it), but as for himself, he never really cared; he looked how he looked and that was all there was to it.

Other people seemed to have different ideas. Luka had what he eventually learned was the “bad boy appearance”; the highlights, the piercings, the distressed pants, and the untied shoes apparently all contributed to it. It was also something “alluring” and “attractive” to certain people, and Luka had definitely had his share of those certain people flocking to him, thinking he was someone completely different from who he actually was.

Under normal circumstances, he was never noticed unless he wanted to be. He had a presence similar to Juleka’s that didn’t make him stand out in any particular way, but he could “turn it off” if he so wished, leading to people thinking he had snuck up on them. When strangers _did_ finally take him in, it led to the misunderstanding and - if they were interested in him because of it - was swiftly followed by disappointment.

It made sense in a way, how his lack of presence combined with how people’s first impressions seemed to come from appearance, but it was one of the few things in his life that truly upset him. Of course, he wasn’t going to change his hair or how he dressed, refusing to give up what he looked like just because of other people, but he still wanted the misunderstandings to stop.

As he sat on the Liberty, contemplating the issue and playing a melody to keep his mind off things, he suddenly heard a voice call out behind him, cutting his song short with an, “ _U-um!_ ”

He raised a brow, then turned and propped his arm up on the edge of the Liberty. There was a girl standing a small distance away, shifting on her feet and keeping her hands behind her back. Her black hair nearly shadowed out her eyes, but the bright blue shone through clear as day.

He noticed the blush on her face next and tried not to look put off by it. He’d been through this sort of thing before, and far too many times to count. He expected this to be no different, where he’d have to explain how he _wasn’t in any gangs,_ why his outfit wasn’t _making some sort of rebellious statement,_ and that his _motorcycle_ was actually just a dorky bicycle (which he was proud of, thank you very much).

What he _wasn’t_ expecting was for the girl to pull a decently-sized gift box out from behind her back and throw it onto the deck of the Liberty. He stared at it, then back at her while wordlessly asking a question, which she responded to with a quick nod.

He’d never gotten an actual _gift_ from an “admirer” before.

Looking down and setting his guitar off to the side, he slowly got off his seat to pick up the gift, then sat back down so he could put it on his lap. He undid the thick ribbon, a strange curiosity filling him as he lifted the top of the box to look inside.

He gaped at the contents. The box was absolutely filled to the _brim_ with goodies, like things an acquaintance would know to give him: stickers for his acoustic guitar, a pack of replacement guitar strings, and a set of empty CD jewel cases with blank CDs inside, all resting on top of a few layers of sky blue tissue paper. He almost felt a little spoiled getting so many things in one package, especially since he was used to just buying such things himself.

He turned back to the girl questioningly, to which she shyly gestured at the walkway above the one that the Liberty’s gangplank would connect to.

“I go all over Paris to get inspiration and I-I sometimes sat up there to draw,” she explained. “I heard you playing such beautiful music and I’ve seen you at other places by accident. You’re always so _calm_ and _nice_ and I just—” She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead, closing her eyes and taking a sharp intake of breath as if to steel herself up. “I’d… _I’d like to go out with you?_ ” Flinching, she looked back at him and flailed her arms in defense. “ _N-not—!_ Not like an official boyfriend-girlfriend thing, because that’d be weird! I want to get to know you, but maybe also get _you_ to know _me?_ ”

She slumped, and he could vaguely make out a mumble; something about a “disaster.”

He tried to get a word out, but she beat him to it, standing straight again to point at the box. “ _Look!_ There’s… a surprise at the bottom of the gift, okay? I’ll be there, but—i-if you don’t want to talk with me or want me there at all, that’s fine—you can just say so and I’ll go! _Okay-bye-now!_ ”

She waved frantically as she sped to the nearest set of steps to leave the general area the Seine was in. Luka was stunned silent for a few more seconds, then looked back at the gift she’d left him. He moved around the contents, not finding anything at first, then noted the tissue paper and dug underneath it, her fingertips touching something small and rectangular. He gripped it and gently pulled it out, careful not to damage it in any way.

His eyes widened as he realized what it was: a _front-row ticket_ to Jagged Stone’s next concert. It didn’t surprise him that she knew he liked Jagged Stone - literally anyone who saw him knew that, he paraded Jagged’s symbol on his shirt after all - but he couldn’t believe she’d just _given him_ a front-row ticket like it was nothing when it was _very much something._

He took a quick glance around the area to see if the girl was still there, feeling a hint of guilt that he immediately judged her due to his exhaustion with other people when she’d clearly gone through the effort to know him just from the brief glimpses she got. He’d always hated the fact that he got misunderstood, but maybe he misunderstood her too?

Taking one last look at the ticket, he safely slipped it back into its original spot and closed the box, standing up with a look of resolve.

He’d find out the truth on the day of that concert, and there was a part of him that was looking forward to it. She might’ve heard _him_ playing beautiful music when she’d first seen him, but he felt like he’d heard beautiful music coming from _her_ just now as well, and he hoped he was right.


	24. Promise Ringing True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka and Marinette have been best friends for years, but when Luka has to be torn away from her on his quest to be a rockstar, they make a promise that they carry with them all the way through adulthood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Childhood] [Adulthood] [Timeskip] [Promise Rings] [Jagged Stone is Luka Couffaine’s Father] [Failed/Newfound Goals] [Flower Shop] [Music Shop]

“So… you gotta go today?” Marinette asked during the uncomfortable silence between them.

“Yeah,” Luka muttered in reply. “Dad’s coming to get me.”

“Y'still don’t know when you get to come back?”

Deep down, she already knew the answer.

He shook his head. “No. He says that I should go if I wanna be a rockstar like him though.”

She already knew that too, as they’d had the discussion multiple times before. When she’d first become friends with Luka, there was a connection there that she wanted to hold onto, and Luka felt the same way about her as well. They played with each other more than any of their other friends, sharing their creative energies ever since day one.

They hadn’t expected that to have to end one day, especially so soon. Luka had always been into music, which made the natural next step being a rockstar. He’d initially been hesitant at the idea of leaving her, but Marinette hadn’t wanted to hold him back and thus encouraged the idea. It only made sense to get as big of a headstart as possible, so it’d be wasteful to not take advantage of the offer.

Being as young as they were, neither had a great concept of the time they’d have to be apart, but they knew it was a big deal and that made it _feel_ like forever even though Luka hadn’t gone anywhere yet. Marinette hated that the atmosphere was so sad when they were supposed to be enjoying their time together, but she couldn’t stop reminding herself that this was the last time they’d see each other for some unknown amount of years.

Then, Luka spoke up, breaking up her thoughts. “D-did…did you ever get ‘em?”

She glanced up at him, confused. “Hm?” Realization struck a moment later. “O-oh! You still…?”

He nodded eagerly, and Marinette turned to rummage through the little purse she had slung over her shoulder. She felt her fingers touch the little box she’d been searching for, then pulled it to show it to him.

“I-I’m sorry it took so long,” she murmured guiltily. “I had to work a bunch for Papa and Maman so I could buy 'em!”

“With money?” he questioned, suddenly baffled. “Y'didn’t have to do that…”

“Maybe, b-but I was scared that they’d break too soon if I made them myself, but I swear I made 'em look nice and everything!”

She opened the box to show him, finally revealing the jewelry inside: a pair of promise rings that she decorated herself. She’d had to be extremely careful not to tell her parents what they were for, as she was smart enough to know that they would’ve said that _they were too young;_ how they _weren’t even teenagers yet._

Marinette didn’t care though, and neither did Luka.

“S-since—” Marinette steeled herself up, then looked at Luka with resolve. “Since you gotta go, you better become the best rockstar ever, okay? And then I’ll become a famous fashion designer and I’ll spoil you a bunch!”

He was already grinning at the idea, nodding in agreement. “I’ll spoil you too and wear all the stuff you make.” He giggled. “The girl ones too.”

She giggled in return, then turned her attention to the rings. She’d colored hers pink and white while his was blue and black, and Luka held his hand out excitedly for the latter. She was a little clumsy with it, having never put a ring on someone’s hand before, but still managed to slip it onto Luka’s ring finger. She had previously considered practicing at home by putting her ring on her own hand, but had stubbornly refused the idea, reminding herself that _Luka_ was supposed to put it on her and anything else was wrong.

Luka slipped hers on as well and she admired it, appreciating the white and pink against her skin. It made the situation feel all the more real, which was both exciting and sad.

Feeling the emotions start taking over, she took a breath.

“A-and then we’ll get married,” she said resolutely, giving him a hopeful look, “and we’ll live in a house together, and you won’t have to go away ever again?”

It’d been a mistake to bring up the fact that he was leaving, as the thought brought tears to her eyes. He must’ve noticed too, as he immediately outstretched his arms for her. She dove for him, hugging him tight and not missing how his usually gentle hug was tighter as well.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, silently wondering what she’d do without the person that made her happiest.

He squeezed her tighter. “I’ll miss you too.” At the sound of her small sob, his voice grew pained. “M-marinette, please don’t cry.”

She sniffled, then pulled away to look at his face, pointing out half-accusingly, “Y-you’re crying too.”

His tears spilled over at the realization, and they went right back to hugging, unwilling to pull away until they were forced to.

She just hoped everything would be okay.

* * *

Marinette sighed, leaning on the counter and playing with the petals of a nearby azalea. It was one of those days where she couldn’t help feeling down, her mind drifting back to childhood where everything was easier and she’d had everything figured out. She’d been so sure about becoming a fashion designer, so famous that she was known by everyone for making the best and most fashionable clothes possible.

Yet, she’d found her way into a flower shop instead. Instead of the grand places she imagined herself going to, she’d gotten a quaint little place that featured flowers over fabric. Her various bouquets had their signature Marinette appeal, but fashion was little more than a hobby for her nowadays.

She hadn’t regretted it, at least for the most part. She’d had expectations of the fashion world that simply hadn’t measured up to her childhood dreams, and the feeling of selling scarves and outfits to strangers ended up being so much different compared to giving the same exact things to her friends and family. Put simply, it was never meant to happen, and she’d long since grown content with that.

As she leaned further on the counter, trying to be more level with the azalea, a soft 'clink’ noise brought her back to attention. She looked down, noting the ring - that her fingers had long since outgrown - dangling from the string of her necklace. Her gaze softened as she brought her hand up to hold it in her palm, gently stroking the surface with her fingers. The familiar white and pink colors had faded slightly, but the memories that came with them had not, and she often found herself lost in them.

To a degree, she knew that it was silly to hang onto it - they were adults and Luka had probably thrown his away a long time ago - but she thought too fondly of her friendship with him, and there was a romantic in her that giggled at the memory of two kids wanting so badly to stay together that they’d marry as soon as possible.

And really, Luka had never truly left her. She’d gained a habit long ago of looking at the ring whenever she felt down, imagining what he might do to comfort her had he been there. Even in her flower shop, there were hints of blues and blacks strewn about the pinks and whites, and the bell that rang whenever the door opened was inspired by how Luka always liked the bell of her parents’ bakery (not that she’d ever tell them that it was _Luka_ and not _them_ who made the bell happen, but still).

It was almost like he really _did_ live there.

She sighed, taking the ring in her fingers and turning it every way possible. She hadn’t heard from him since the day they’d been forced apart, but she imagined that he was too busy, or maybe just forgot about her. Jagged probably wanted the absolute best for him and took him all over the world to do it, dropping him off wherever for the sake of inspiration. The paparazzi must’ve found the story extremely boring as well, as she’d never read or heard about him. She couldn’t help being amused at the idea that Luka had stayed as sweet and pure as he was when they were kids, making covering _the son of Jagged Stone_ somehow the least newsworthy thing in the world.

Part of the whole “not knowing” thing was _her_ fault. She supposed she could’ve asked Anarka or Juleka for a way to contact Luka, but the little girl inside her was afraid. Even if their promise meant nothing, she hadn’t gone on to do what she’d told Luka that she would while _he_ was still out and about, probably on the other side of the _world,_ ready to make it as a rockstar. She felt guilty in a way, wondering if maybe things would’ve been different had she somehow convinced everyone to let her go with him. Maybe she could’ve gotten used to the idea of being a fashion designer, and they would’ve really been together all that time, and—

Marinette snapped herself out of her daydream, having to remind herself that she was supposed to be _working,_ not reminiscing or throwing out 'what-ifs’ that she’d never know the answers to. Letting her ring fall back against her chest, she released a breath and went out to the back to look over all of her flowers. The day before then had already been rather uneventful, with a few random customers here and there, so she expected the rest of the day to be the same.

She was right, for the most part. Time passed by as it always did - a little slow, but she enjoyed her job so she didn’t mind - and she was almost ready to go close the shop when the bell suddenly rang.

“ _Coming!_ ” she called out, jogging out so she could see who her last customer of the day was. She silently hoped it’d be brief, wanting to go home and take a long bath after all the sad thoughts she let swirl around in her head.

Then, she actually saw who it was, and all thoughts ceased. The dim lighting of the shop cast a light on his blue and black hair, his form further illuminated by hints of moonlight showing through the glass windows at the front of the shop.

_Luka._

She blinked, her mind finally catching up enough with reality to throw a thousand unvoiced questions. How did he get back without her hearing about it? What was he doing here? _Why_ was he here?

At the last question in particular, she noticed that he didn’t seem as surprised as she was, like he’d _expected_ her to be there. His smile was even as warm as ever and just as soft despite his grown-up face.

As if he’d heard what was on her mind, he explained, “Rose said you’d be here.” Though his posture was casual, there was a subtle hint of trepidation; perhaps fear that she would be upset somehow at the surprise.

She absolutely wasn’t. In fact, her legs finally kicked in and she was rushing around the counter to reach him. There wasn’t even time to think about how childish it might’ve seemed or worry that too much time had passed for Luka to care; he was already outstretching his arms for her, his smile even wider than before.

She collided with him, wrapping her arms around him while he did the same to her. He staggered slightly from her weight being thrown at him, but he didn’t complain, and she noted that she fit into him even better than when they were kids. She took it as an opportunity to snuggle into him, inhaling a scent that was different yet familiar at the same time.

“I missed you,” she murmured when she exhaled, though it was muffled by his jacket.

“I missed you too,” he whispered in reply. “It’s been too long.”

She squeezed him a little harder, nodding against his chest. Though she had to steel herself up to do so, she pulled away from the hug just enough to make eye contact with him. “Yeah, _way_ too long. I-I mean—” She sucked in a breath as she took him in up close, her hands flying up to cup his face. “ _Look at you!_ ”

She stepped back to follow her own command, spreading her arms out to gesture at him. “I know it’s been _so many years_ so obviously you’re older, but you’re still _you!_ It’s just that you’re even _more_ you than before! You’re so _tall_ and _mature_ and you got even more han—”

She cut herself off at the last second, though not because she caught what she almost blurted out. She’d been giving him a look up and down while she talked, and her eyes had finally noticed the faint glimmer on his wrist. She looked up at him to ask, but his eyes seemed to notice the same thing she did, only _her_ necklace instead of _his_ wrist.

Pointing, she asked sheepishly, “I-is that what I think it is?”

He glanced up at her, then smiled down at the object in question. Raising his left hand, he showed her the blue-and-black ring in full, which was attached to a band around his wrist. The ring itself was positioned at the front of his wrist rather than the back of it, right below his palm and centered roughly in the middle.

“You kept yours too,” he observed softly.

“Oh, um…” She giggled, the notion seeming so much more meaningful now that she knew they’d _both_ kept theirs. “Yeah, I'm—” She glanced down to admire her necklace, but stopped as she realized, “… _still wearing my work outfit, oh my gosh, give me one second—_ ”

Utterly mortified and wondering about how she must look right now, she turned to leave when Luka’s arm shot out to catch her wrist, as if she’d disappear if he let her leave the room.

“Marinette, it’s okay,” he assured. Offering her a warm smile, he added, “You’re beautiful.”

She blushed, the red tint of her cheeks not helped by the fact that he was so _blunt_ and _shameless_ with the compliment. He really meant it and she knew it; Luka never said things he didn’t mean.

“T-thanks.” Pulling her hand away only to neaten herself up a bit, she smiled back at him and returned her gaze to his ring, eager to distract herself from the smooth comment. She noted lightly, “I thought about wearing mine on my wrist too, but I was always afraid of something happening to it, like I’d reach into something and it’d be gone when I pulled away.”

He eased his posture, presumably because she wasn’t running away now. Glancing off to the side, she could tell he was reminiscing when he replied, “Yeah, I couldn’t really imagine wearing mine anywhere else except for here.” He rose his hand again for emphasis.

She tilted her head, not understanding why _that spot_ specifically was so important. Luka was apparently happy to explain it, moving both hands to pose them as if there was a guitar slung around his shoulders. His eyes darted over to the ring itself, and though Marinette couldn’t see it due to the ring not facing her anymore, it only took her a few more seconds to realize that he’d chosen that spot because _he could see the ring at all times that way._

The blush came back, and she tried to hide it - even if briefly - by turning away to walk back to the counter. She heard his footsteps behind her, but a glance his way proved that it was only to approach the counter itself, not follow her behind it. He was also _amazingly_ calm and at ease dishing out such _attacks_ on her heart, which was both delightful and confusing at the same time; delightful because _it was Luka_ and he was genuine in everything he did, but confusing because…

She scratched her cheek, then slipped her hand down to rub awkwardly at her arm. “S-so, you said Rose told you I’d be here?”

He nodded, seeming unaware of where she was going with this.

She bit her lip, wondering if it made it worse to directly point it out something that was already obvious to her. Nevertheless, curiosity won over and she asked, “You’re not… disappointed?”

He straightened, stunned. “Disappointed? Why would I be?”

Lowering her gaze to the floor, she shifted uncomfortably, “I said I’d become a fashion designer, but—”

His snort cut her off and her gaze jerked up to look at him. He immediately raised a hand, wordlessly assuring that he wasn’t laughing at her.

“Sorry,” he said, calming himself. “Anyway, I know it’s not because you weren’t able to do it. You just found a song you liked playing better, right?”

She was somewhere between surprised that he knew and amused that his tendency towards music metaphors hadn’t gone away. “How’d you know?”

His smile softened. Resting his hands on the counter, he leaned onto it and explained, “I _did_ think back then that I _had_ to be a rockstar because of how much I loved music, but…” He shrugged sheepishly. “I was so young, I didn’t even think there was any other option.”

Marinette gaped. “Wait, you—you didn’t become a rockstar then?”

With an affirming look, he continued, “I felt awful when I finally realized it. I left you to learn how to be a rockstar and I knew I’d be throwing all of Dad’s teachings away, but I still couldn’t enjoy the life he tried to make for me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost looking embarrassed. “I’ve actually been here for a while now. I wanted to see you and Rose was happy to help, but I also wanted to have my life together first, music shop and all.”

“Music shop?” she echoed curiously.

“Yeah, I…I wanted to be around music, but not in the way Dad and Mom are.” He placed a hand to his chest. “I want to _make_ instruments, and teach people how to play from the heart like I do. I wished I’d known it sooner too, because I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

It wasn’t apparent on his face, but she could tell that there was a vulnerability there that he wouldn’t have shared with anyone else. She felt touched, assuring, “I think that’s a wonderful dream. Way better than just _being a rockstar._ ” Then, she laughed. “It’s also _way_ cooler than my reason for getting a flower shop.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” he retorted with a smile. “I _always_ thought you were cool, no matter what you did.”

She ducked her head to hide herself, turning shy at the _once again_ blunt compliment. It was as if he’d been making up for lost time when he hadn’t been able to bombard her with praise.

She didn’t entirely mind it.

“W-well,” she began, “it was because of _you,_ actually?”

He blinked in surprise. “ _Me?_ ”

She nodded. “Yeah, just… even before I realized that fashion wasn’t going to work out, I always loved flowers and gardening.” She fidgeted, feeling like she sounded lame. “It reminded me of _us._ ”

He gaped at her, and she had to pretend not to see it so she could continue.

“You weren’t around anymore, but seeing flowers anywhere brought me back to when we’d play on my balcony where all my plants were, or when I’d run onto the Liberty and there’d be all those flowers to greet me.” She giggled at a memory of the one time she and Luka had grown a flower themselves; they’d nearly cried when it finally bloomed. “I guess… you stayed in everything I did, even after you left.”

When the silence stretched, she tried to occupy herself by resting her hands on the counter and twiddling her fingers. It was only once Luka’s hands reached out and held hers that she finally met his gaze again.

Despite the time apart, she could still feel the emotional weight of his expressions. Luka didn’t always show a lot on the outside, but she _felt it_ deep in her core.

“It was the same for me,” he whispered, and she didn’t have to ask what he meant with his ring glistening at her. He breathed up, saying on the exhale, “I’m so glad you haven’t changed, Marinette.”

Feeling relief and a slew of different emotions overwhelm her, she smiled at him. “I’m glad _you_ haven’t either.”

They stayed in that moment for a while, and she realized that they really _had_ picked right back up where they’d left off as kids, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. She’d lost a few friends over the years due to growing apart and lack of contact, but Luka was just—always there, no matter how far away he was, and now he was back for _real._

He was a constant in her life, and she wanted to keep it that way.

“…Luka,” she called gently, needing a moment to gather her resolve. “I—I know I can’t spoil you as much as I promised, but… could I take you out sometime? And we could talk more?”

He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, the look in his eyes making her heart do a flip.

“You already spoiled me, Marinette,” he assured, “and I’d love to.”

She beamed at him, utterly _floored_ by how happy she felt and how quickly all her feelings from childhood had come rushing back, as if no time had passed at all.

It was what she imagined Luka would call “a classic.”


End file.
